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The International Magazine for Men/October 1978 

Wbridwdesaie: 5^50,000' 







Riia Tellone/ Photo by Pat Hill/Viva Bikini available 
through Viva Products. 909 Third Avenue. NY. NY. 10022 






Xaviera Hollander 




Ted Nelson 


science-Fiction fever 


Phoiosby |a 

Anthony Burgess 

Bob; Schneider 



J J Kane 



Ed Emmerling 

Richard Ballad 

Making, waves .. 

Malcolm Brenner 





fsatiorY- .:■■■' Robert Kaiser 

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The future, as inscrutable as it is compelling, normally provides the 
setting for most science fiction, which helps to explain why this 
one-time fringe-cult genre has become a sophisticated S2 
billion-a-year escapist industry. Science fiction in every form — 
films, music, books, gadgets, and television — has become the 
subject of unerring commercial exploitation. In "Science-Fiction 
Fever" (page 62). free-lance journalist Tom Nolan reports that by 
the end of next year, the sale of Star Wars memorabilia alone will 
total $220 million. Nolan also talks with such masters as Isaac 
Asimov and Ray Bradbury about what constitutes true science 
fiction and listens to other longtime critics and enthusiasts who 
trace the history of the art from its pulp origins to its present-day 
glossy respectability. 

Because technology is now advancing at such a breakneck 
speed, factual science has become as wondrously incredible as 
the fictional kind. Penthouse contributor Richard Ballad interviews 
■ Dr. Robert Jastrow, who is director of NASA's Institute for Space 
Studies and whose predictions about the future illustrate this 
merger of fact and fantasy. For example, Jastrow feels certain that 
human life will eventually be supplanted by forms of computerized 
"silicon intelligence" not unlike Star Wars' R2D2 or the "Hal" of 
Stanley Kubrick's 2001 . It may seem unlikely to most of us, but 
Jastrow points out that such computers have increased in capac- 
ity by a power of ten every seven years since 1950. "Man, on the 
other hand," he observes, "hasn't changed in a long time." 

As to whether such computers will ever feel anything resembling 
human emotions, that is still speculative at best— a hypothetical 
but interesting subject explored by Bob Schneider, a free-lance 
writer and mixed-media artist, in "Robot Lib" (page 88). Within 
thirty years, some scientists forecast, robots will have replaced a 
third of the human labor force. Schneider maintains that no matter 
how efficient present-day robots may seem, they are still drones. 
("They lack panache," he complains, "They're as versatile as 
galoshes and as personable as a microwave oven.") But many of 
the experts whom Schneider interviewed insist that computerized 
metal men of the future will have developed a quasi-human sensi- 
bility. Freed from the social and psychological burdens of having to 
provide food, shelter, and ofher "squishy protoplasmic" neces- 
sities, they could in fact go on to become "more human than we 
are; they could even disinherit the animal in us." 

Such conflicting opinions merely stoke the furnaces of scientific 
inquiry, and few of these controversies are as heated as the UFO 
debate. In "Cosmic Censorship" (page 92) investigative journalist 
Tony Scaduto contends that since the Cold War scare of the fifties, 
our government has systematically suppressed evidence. verify- 
ing the existence of UFOs. This cosmic Watergate is supposedly 
designed to keep the American public ignorant in order to avoid 
mass panic. Another reason given is that old familiar standby, 



"national security." As a result, we've been conned into believing 
that most UFO reports can be explained away as natural 
phenomena, hallucinations, or hoaxes. Even Jimmy Carter 
claimed that he himself had seen a UFO, and he promised to open 
all government files on the subject to the public. We're still waiting, 
of course. In any event, it's time for our elected officials to stop the 
stonewalling and end what Dr. J. Allen Hynek, a noted UFO expert, 
calls our persistent "it-can't-be-therefore-it-isn't approach." 

On a somewhat lighter level, who knows more about UFOs than 
Leonard Nimoy. the actor who portrayed the pointy-eared, linear- 
minded Mr. Spock on the "Star Trek" television series? In "A Con- 
versation with Leonard Nimoy" (page 190), West Coast regular 
Robert Kaiser talks with Nimoy about his new career as a writer 
and a poet, about the "mass tribal celebrations" that "Star Trek" 
conventions have become, and about the joys and problems of 
being typecast in such an indelible and enduring way. (At one 
convention, the adoring Trekkies gave Nimoy such a resounding 
ovation that he intoned. "You're a very emotional group of hu- 

Another emotional group of humans is the one whose breathless 
life-after-death testimonials have spawned a number of books on 
the "Subject and a flurry of consternation among believers and 
nonbelievers. In "Death after Death" (page 116) humorist J. J. Kane 
satirizes such intimations of immortality. While he's at it, Kane (who 
describes himself as a free-lance writer with a special interest in 
death) also pokes fun at pop culture, the magazine business, and 
the plight of all -too- mortal wordsmiths like himself. His object, he 
tells us, is to make his readers die laughing. 

Anthony Burgess, the distinguished social critic, novelist, and 
author of Clockwork Orange, exemplifies science-fiction writing at 
its finest. Our fiction selection, "1985," is excerpted from Burgess's 
long-awaited novel of the same name, Burgess foresees an Eng- 
land one year after George Orwell's vision of 1984: the country is 
owned by Arabs, labor unions have become barbaric hordes, 
books like The Carpetbaggers are considered great literature, 
and, in order to survive, intellectual rebels are forced to practice 
the violence they despise. 

When you're in the mood for more whimsical future fantasies, 
you'll enjoy the close encounter in "Lust in Space" (page 72), 
produced and photographed by Penthouse staff photographer 
Earl Miller, with set and wardrobe designed by Sydney Lauran, 
Our lucky protagonist finds himself marooned on a distant planet, 
where two alien (but friendly) young things make him welcome 
indeed. Ourother Pets, as usual, could easily compete in any Miss 
Universe pageant on any planet, although we're glad they're on 
this one! 

And since there is no time like the future, this special issue also 
contains a nine-page, sneak preview of Omni— the world's first 
spage age magazine. Omni will combine science fact, fiction, and 
fantasy, providing a unique insight into Ihe tantalizing world of the 
future, Omni goes on sale nationally on September 14. Buy it, or 
people everywhere will hate you. CM g 




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Letters (or publication : 

Cemented friendship 

I never thought that I would be writing to 

Penthouse until the other day, when an In- 
cident happened to me that I would like to 
share with you. i read Penthouse every 
month and especially enjoy the "Forum" 

I'm a straight male, twenty-one, and 
enjoy sex with my girl friend very much. 
Well, the other night, my best friend— 
whom I'll call Sam — was out riding around 
with me. Having nothing else to do, Sam 
and I decided to go to his house and party 
forawhile.(Hismotherwasoutoftown.) We 
got there, fired a few joints, and drank some 
liquor. I was getting pretty fucked up, so 
instead of driving home, I decided to stay 
with Sam and sleep it off. I'd done this 
several times over the years, but this night 
was different. 

We went to bed, listening to the stereo 
and talking about pussy. Pretty soon I had a 
tremendous hard-on, and Sam did, too. I 
slipped my hand into my underwear and 
was fondling my dick a little, hoping Sam 
wouldn't notice. To my surprise, he did. He 
rolled over to me, slipped my underwear 
down, and started masturbating me. 1 
didn't know what to do, but I was feeling 
awfully good, and it made me incredibly 
horny to think thai Sam was doing this and 
not my girl friend. 

Then Sam stopped masturbating me 
and, more to my surprise, proceeded to 
give me a hell of a blowjob. He took all of my 
cock into his mouth and rolled his tongue 
around on the head of my dick. He Ihen 
started licking my balls and my ass hole. 
Then he went back to sucking my cock, 
and 1 couldn't control it any longer — I shot 
my load into his mouth, and he swallowed 
every drop. 

I had now lost control of myself. I told him 
to lie back and relax and then went down on 
him and gave him head until he came in my 
mouth and 1 swallowed it. By then I had 
another hard-on, Sam saw this, went to the 
bathroom, and came back with some Vas- 
eline. He proceeded to grease my cock 
and then got down on all fours. I mounted 
him from behind, put my cock up his ass, 
and proceeded to fuck him until I came a 
second time. It was, I might add, fantastic. I 
grabbed the Vaseline, greased Sam's 
cock, and got on all fours. His cock is only 
about four inches long, but it still hurt a little, 
and I couldn't have taken it if it had been . 
any longer. Sam fucked me in the ass until 
he lost his load again. The warm come felt 
good up my ass hole. 
After we got into bed and smoked 

another joint, I started touching Sam's cock 
again and got another hard-on. We got into 
a sixty-nine position, gave each other a 
long and slow "blow," and both came about 
the same time. By then we were so worn out 
that we fell asleep. 

I had never been to bed with a man be- 
fore this, but now, occasionally, when we 
have nothing else to do, we get fucked up 
and sleep together. We're thinking about 
springing it on our girl friends and trying a 
foursome!— Name and address withheld 

Tootsie roll 

I'm twenty-six years old and very experi- 
enced in sexual matters, In the four years 
that I've been reading your magazine, I've 
read many articles about those people 
whom you call "foot fetishists." 

I first discovered myself lo be one of 
those people when my wife and 1 were sit- 
ting in bed after a nice, enjoyable fuck. We 
were both watching television in the nude. 
Then I noticed a funny look in her eye when 
I scratched my balls, and I attained a slight 
erection from the look she gave me. I knew 
that in. her mind there lurked the idea that I 
wanted more excitement, 

Soon she positioned herself into what 
became a sixty-nine position, her warm 
mouth engulfing my now-erect penis, her 
round ass and tight, pink pussy in my face. 
I put my tongue inside her pussy the smell 
and taste of her love juices exciting me 
even more. Her mouth then came off my 
throbbing cock, and she told me to reach 
over to her night table and get her vibrator. I 
did so, and she rewarded me by putting her 
mouth back on my cock. I inserted the vi- 
brator inside her pussy and turned it on. 
She then lifted her feet and covered my 
face with them. Her toes were now on my 
lips. I smelled and kissed her feet, and 
soon I was in a slate of ecstasy, I began to 
kiss her toes and soon came to an orgasm 
that proved to be the most enjoyable of my 

I am sure the woman you are with will be 
able to provide you with just such intense 
orgasms. There is nothing quite like having 
your dick sucked off while you kiss her feet 
and feel her tits caressing your stomach. 
Every orgasm I have had since then was 
as ecstatic as the one I have just described 
to you. I request that you put more feet into 
your pictorials, because I think there are a 
lot of men like me. — S.H. 

Rear-entry romance 

I was-just sitting and reading your maga- 
zine, and I've decided I would like to tell you 


Founded March i965 


._'■■ editors publisher 


. (U.S.eailion) ::.. 


Sob Guccione (chairman and president) 
Irwin E Billman (executive vice-president) 
Kathy Keeton (senior vice-president) '••' ';'.; 
■'■ Anthony J Guooonei'secrerary-ireasurerJ 
Edrror '.-I Chief- Bob Guccione:. Editorial Director- 
James Goode: Managing Editor Heidi Handman Se- 
nior Editors: Peter Bloch. Robe" Holler. John t..,n-- 
bardi. Gerard Van der Leun: National Affairs Editor. 
WiHiam ft Corson; Fiction EdUoi : Paul Bresnick.fash- 
:■.■.;. Humor Editor; Bill Lee 1 Ser- 
vice Editor: Gwenn Lewis Norman: Assw. 
..:-..- ■ ...-■: - ■-, ■■-..■■ J,.-.---'-,-:-.----;-:; "■' .;■;■ ■ 
■ . avid GramOs; Ed- 
itorial Assistanls. Kalhryn Green. Pat Troy; Research 
Editor: Susan Bidel: Contributii 
Amis. An Ford, Roger Greeospun 
Henry Morgan. Frederick Mullaliy. Robert ■ Painter. 
:■.■ :.,,-.:.■■ ■:-■:,..■.■■:: ; -.-..■■ ■ ■■■■. ,-. 
von Holtmarv JVeacr fto Society: J. Winston; 
Associate Editor. -West Coast. Toni Siggs 
VPIM Director: Joe Brooks; Associate Art Director: 
Robert Altemus. Designers: Rrcnard Aloisio. Wendy 
■■ V;;f' ''■'■■ - : .■.■',;,-:■-; - • ■ ■-■K- ■ ■■■:. ■/.- ■ ■■ . 
ski. Pal Hill; Photo Editor: Hildegard KrorV ' 
Associate Publisher, Kathy Keelon: VP/Advertising 
Director, Marianne Howatson; VP/Advertising Admin- 
istration; Woody Katsofl; VPPromotion Directa. Alma 
Moore; ^/Administrative Services, Jen Winston; VPi 
Production Director. John Evans; VPICorpoiate Coun- 
sel, Gerald Adler: Associate Advertising Director. Jay 
Remer; Midwest Advertising Manager. Norman Kami - 
kow; Controller. John Holland; Circulation Manager. 
Robert Castardi; Assistant to Circulation Director. 
Richard Fooel; Advertising Production On 
Wagner; Type Manager Michael Weingiass; Research 
Director, Carole Rossant 


New York (Kathy Keeton)! Penthouse International 
109 "i'd Avenue. New York. NY. 10022, Tef 
(212) 593-3301. Telex no. 237128. MitM/t .; 
house International Ltd.. 111 Easl Wacker Drive. Chi- 
cago III 60601. Tel. (312) 565-0466. West Coast; 
Penthouse 1900 Ave. ot the Slars. Suite 830 
Los Angeles. Calif. 90067. Tel .-.-... 

Europe (Peter Goldsmith): Penthouse Publi 
'" J 68 Upper Berkeley Street. Lor ' 

England, Tel. 01-262-0331. Teles no. 919665 


Tel. (212) 593-3301, Telex n 

■ isel Boulevard.- L 

-"""I; Tel (213! 652-8370. U 

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. 237128 West Coast: 
3 Angeles. California 
■ 9PB Eng'tand, Tel. 01- 

Penthouse PuWicalions Ltd, 
{U.K. & European editions) 

■ Directors 1 Bob Guccione (Chairman). Gerard Van der 
' ■ ■- (Managing), Joe Brooks. Kalhy Keeton. 
. ■■. ■■:.■■■: ■■■ : ■'■-■■.' .-:■. ■■ ■"-...- ■ ;■ 
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•j:.«i.-:j '.■ >-! !.-i~-:..: ■■ .'■■.■■;.■■■ ■■ :■: ;;-■, ■ ■■■■ 
Blunsden. Frederick MulWiy 
minislfattve: Advertising Director: Peier Goto- 
ilh,: Director ot Public Relations: Molly McKetlar; 
■ulation Director: Jim .Burns; Accounts Manager 
'J. Herblng. 


:.; " D.C.: William R. Corson. 1707 H Street. 
■ .': .-. ,:■ .;:-.■:;. .: -:,■ ,■ ..,-.•;. -:■■ :■.-.;, 

-* >'i Berlin-;" . -ward Stone. 46 

Hameiech St. Herzlia Pitua. Israel Rio de 
■. 38 Rua Mexico 15th lloor. Rto 
. ie'if.o ZC33. Brazil. Budapest: Paul Kiriy- 
■■■■■ii.. Ulea, Budapest 5. Hungaiy- 



abou! the iirst really exc'i'ng sex I ever l-.a;.l 

My friend Bob was living in New Orleans 
with his wife, Carol, -when they invited me 
down for a long weekend. I cut my classes- 
ai Ihi; Missouri co lege I was attending and 
flew down for Mardi Gras. Bob fixed me up 
with a daie, but at one point, when I was 
ci.-mcing with Gfu'oI. i w.-iispereri : n her >:;a : 
"If Bob weren't my friend, I would sure like 
to fuck you," She seemed embarrassed 
and laughed nervously, and I dropped ihe 
subject. morning, after Bob went to 
work, Carol knocked on the guest room 
door and came in,- bringing me a cup of 
coffee. She was wearing-'' a cotton house- 
coat, open just enough to reveal her ample 
cleavage. Even this early in the morning, 
she was quite beautiful. 

I began to apologize for my comment the 
night before, but she slopped me, adding, 
"I'm flattered that someone besides Bob 
finds me allractivo enough to fuck." Her 
use of this word bo:hs,.irpr.sed and excited 
me, and, judging from ihe way her nipples 
expanded under her robe, I could tell that it 
did the same for her. 

I put my hand on her log I hen and iold her 
that, given the- chance, I would fuck her any 
time. She glanced down at the blanket, 
where my cock was building a tent, and 
chuckied, "1 can tell you mean that," 

At this point we both realized there was 
no turning back. She took off her robe and 
stood in front of me, naked and beauiirul. I 

had known Carol for years but had never 
suspected that her body was so incredible. 
r .She was slim and dark, with full breasts, 
and her nipples were hard and swollen. 
She stood tall and proud, and the lust in her 
eyes was so strong it was almost scary. She 
became the aggressor, threw the blanket 
off me, and began k-ssing and caressing 
my entire body. After what seemed like 
hours of ecstasy, she began to gve mo my 
very first blowjob. I was going crazy as she 
licked and sucked my rock-hard dick. 

When I was sure I was going to co'-e. 
she suddenly moved down and took my 
come-swollen ball-sin her mouth. I thought 
that nothing-could be better than this, and !■ 
felt the sperm rise from my balls. I'd had 
fantasies all my life, but I never dreamed 
she'd do what she did next. She let go of my 
balls and moved farther down, licking into 
the crack of my ass and plunging her 
tongue into my ass hole. I became excited 
beyond my wildest creams, and after aboul 
thirty seconds I began to shoot semen high 
into the -air. 

Carol immediately moved up to my chest 
and began to lick up the come. After she 
had swallowed it all, she looked me in the 
eye and said, "Now, you do me. Bobby 
never eats my ass hole, and it's what I love 
best." She rolled on her back, spread her 
legs, and pulled her knees upto her chest. 
Right before my eyes was the most beauti- 
ful pussy, pink and delicate, and the very 
first ass hole I had ever seen up close. It 

was just a tiny, wr'nkleo hole, but from what 
she- said it was the center of her sexual 
arousal. I began to lick her pussy in long, 
soft strokes, and she started a soft moan- 
ing that increased as I moved downward 
.toward her anus. I licked all around ii with- 
out touching it. until she was practically 
screaming wiih passion. I then plunged my 
tongue deep inside her ass and began lick- 
ing and sucking her most sensitive part. 
She began to come immediately, one or- 
gasm rolling over ihe next in a series ihat 
seemed endless. 

I rolled her over onto her knees and 
spread ne r checks then plunged my cock: 
all the way- into her ass in -one stroke. I 
began to spurt immediately, and she 
fainted dead away. That was the beginning 
■ ■I the most exciiing cay of my life up to that 
time. Our guilt" feelings kepi us from repeat- 
ing our adventure, but l count that day as 
one of my fondest memories. — H.B., Jef- 
ferson City. Mo. 

Young, gay, and glad! 

I thought I would write and tell you about a 
most fantastic part of my life. 

I -.started jacking off when I was twelve. 
I'm now eighteen, and I still love pumping 
my' penis and watching Ihe semen squirt- 
ing out its tip. When I was thirteen, I taught 
my best friend's ten-year-old brother how to 
bang his balls. We've been masturbaii'ng 
each other ever since. 

Before I turned sixteen and got my 
driver's license, Freddie and 1 would get 
together at my house, while my parents 
were at work, and beat each other's meat 
raw. When 1 did -start driving, we would skip 
school. 1 would drive us to a secluded spoi, 
and we would do it to each other until it was 
time to go home. 

Just recently, we started experimenting 
with oral sex and fucking each other in the 
ass. It's great. After 1 move into an apart- 
ment, Fred and I are going to have the best 
limes of our lives. 

1 wish other men would write and tell of 
their experiences with their male 
lovers. — Name and address withheld by 

More than a mistress 

. I would like to share a recent experience of 
mine wiih your readers. Lynn and I a re 'both 
■ in our thirties and work for Ihe same com- 
pany, Last spring, I requesied a supple- 
mental training cou'se thai was to be held 
in one of ihe now-famous Sun Bell cilies this 
winter. Even though I had met Lynn only 
once, I certainly was excited when I found 
out. at the last minute, that she, too. had 
been selected to attend the training ses- 

Lynn is a tall, sandy-haired beauly, wiih 
long, slender legs, nice, pert breasts, and a 
truly great ass, plus a pixieish look in her 
eyes. During the daylong training sessions, 
I secretly admired her from a dislance, as 
eroiic thoughts danced through my mind. 
We managed to get together a few nights, 
but only for reativelv harmless activities. 
Then one night I managed to sit next to her, 


and we played Ihe high-school game of 
footsie and did some mutual leg fondling. 
This was to be our last night together, and 
to my regret, nothing happened. I went 
back to my room and masturbated wildly in 
the shower. 

The next day, about one hour before 1 was 
to catch my plane, Lynn called and asked if 
I wanted to go swimming. I was back in my 
room and in my suit in near-record' time. 
Lynn appeared at the pool about the same 
time, wearing a sexy white bikini. After a 
short swim, we walked back to her room. 
Once there, we just stood rear aach other 
nervously (we are both marred) unti 1 I 
made a very bold move. I took her in my 
ar ,_, ~s aid kissed her very deeply and lov- 
ingly. I felt her crotch rub against mine. My 
hands played .down her back, and I mas- 
saged her ass. one cheek in each hand. 
She began to moan softly as her crotch 
ground against my rapidly rising member. 
We lay down oh the bed and kissed and 
fondled each other for a few minutes, Our 
swirnsuits disappeared, and we looked at 
one another's bodies and fondled each 
other. We got more and more excited as our 
mutual fondling got bolder. 

Lynn looked. at me-and asked apologet- 
ically if she could .give' me head, though 
she claimed she wasn't very good at it. I 
told her head was always good, but that 
■some instances are better than others. 
After my comment, Lynn slowly knelt be- 
side me .and took my erect, throbbing 

member into her mouth. Her strokes were 
slow and lovingly topped oft with a swirling 
tengue motion that soon had me in the 
fhroes of a powerful orgasm She iooked at 
me as I was exploding in her mouth and 
took it all down. 

I could tell fhat she had gotten pretty well 
worked up by now, and I wanted to help her 
out. I laid her back on the bed. Her eyes 
were glassy with excitement, and her cunt 
was sopping wet. I lay next to her on the 
bed and kissed her left breast, leasing (he 
nipple to erecli.on with -my tongue. I gently 
massaged her tummy and worked my fin- 
gers in ever-widening circles to her inner 
thighs and cunt. She moaned as 1 slipped a 
finger into her hot honey pot. Her body 
twisted wiih pleasure as I ri_.obed two other 
fingers against her moist inner lips. Or- 
gasm was not long in coming, as I vibrated 
my index finger on her clit. Lynn's orgasm 
was so powerful that she literally lifted off 
the bed. 

Feeling like a heel for .cheating on my 
wife, 1 hurriedly left to catch my flight. But 
we traded mutual assurances that we 
would get together when we got back to 

We did, and each time; we meet, it gets 
better Lynn loves to give head, and I cer- 
tainly don't discourage her. Our meetings 
have been marainon leve orgies. There are 
no pretenses or false fronts. We both like 
sex, We have a new game of acting out our 
most intimate fantasies. Clothes disappear, 

and we seem to easily oc: excted just by 
snuggling together on the bed, Lynn puts 
her arms over her head, and I settle next to 
■ her on the bed- Since our fantasies involve 
teasing, passive restraint, and almost mild 
hypnosis, I hold her arms over her head 
rather securely. She closes her eyes as my 
narrative fantasy begins. As I talk, my free 
hand begins to explore her luscious body. 
After teasing her nipples to erectness, 1 
play my hands down her stomach and 
dance my fingers along her inner'thighs 
and along the outside of her now rapidly 
moistening cunt. My story begins to get 
more erotic as a finger enters her honey 
pot. Lynn's eyes are closed as she almost 
gets hypnotized and imagines herself tak- 
ing the passive role in my fantasy. Slowly 
and gently. I work her up to a feverish pitch, 
I can hear moans and groans and purrs of 
excitement, and I can feel it by the way her 
vagina flexes. The tease begins by-slowing 
ahd/or changing strokes. Sometimes I re- 
move my hand completely as she writhes in 
pleasure, until she begs me lo enter again. 

Only when the fantasy story and my own 
desires dictate do 'I allow her to come. My 
fantasy story and the induced sexual stimu- 
lation begin to match up. I sense that she is 
on the edge of orgasm. I end my story and 
quicken my slroxes si the same time. Lynn 
comes explosively, and her orgasm lasts for 
several minutes. I always see a very satis- 
fied look in her eye as she tries to relax. She 
tries to regain her composure, which is very 
difficult, since my fingers still tease her 
dripping cunt. 

After she recovers, I get the best head of 
my life. Her technique improves with prac- 
tice. She will suck on my member for an 
hour or more, and my orgasms are explo- 
sive. I always try to leave enough energy for 
our favorite position — from behind. We end 
our orgies completely drained. What Lynn 
doesn't know is that I will eventually end up 
in a permanent arrangemeni with her — 
Name and address withheld 

Sapphic solution 

I'm a twenty-five-year-old dental hygienisf, 
single, and live in my own apartment. 
About a year ago 1 broke up with a guy I had 
been going with for six years. Since then I 
haven't even been out with a man, I don't 
seem lo get to meet any. I'm fairly attractive, 
but a little on the chubby side. An Irish girl 
at work, Pat, and I began discussing this 
problem. She's in the same boat. Not long 
ago we went to a bar but didn't have any 
luck, I was used to getting laid a couple of 
timesaweek.andsincemyguyandl broke 
up. I've been going nuts, I'm horny twenty- 
four ho.urs a day. About a week ago Pat told 
me at work that she had a solution to our_ 
problem and that I was to come over to her' 
apartment that night. I assumed she had 
found a couple of guys and was going to 
surprise me. 

I went home after work, showered, and 
put on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I ar- 
rived at Pat's place, and she was the only 
onethere. She has curly, reddish brown hair 
and was wearing a dungaree skirt and a 




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turtleneck jersey. I was really surprised to 
see that she wore no bra. Her breasts were 
averaged-sized but very firm and high, and 
■ the nipples were hard and erect. She 
handed me a drink, and we sat down. 1 
immediately asked her what the surprise 
was. She said I'd get it later. I hadn't had a 
chance to eat supper after work, and she. 
kept handing me one drink after another, 
She also was drinking quite heavily. Not 
long afier I arrived. I felt drunk. My friend 
also was getting bombed, as I doubt that 
she had had any time to eat also. When she 
came back from the bathroom, she sat next 
to mc or ;he divar She asked me what I 
thought about her going oraless I told for I 
thought she looked good. She then asked 
me if I ever do it. 1 said no, because I never 
really have. She suggested I try it — now. 
She slid her hands up my oack. unfastened 
my bra, and took it off 

I began to realize at this- point what the 
solution to our hominess was — each other. 
I had never touched another woman before 
this way, and I had never really though! 
about it. Since I was drunk and desperate 
for some sex, I didn't refuse. After she took 
oli my ora she told me to stand' up so that 
she could see how I looked braless. Be- 
cause I was a little chubby, my breasts were 
a little flabby As I stood up, they fell to the 
sides. She told me to walk over to the other 
room and then walk facing her. I didas she 
asked, and I could feel my breasts bounc- 
ing loosely under my sweater. This really 
turned her on, As soon as I sat down, she 
put her hand up under my sweater and felt 
my breasts. They ached, and by now I was 
in such a state of sexual excitement that I 
reached over and grabbed her breasts. I 
was feeling them and going crazy. About a 
year's sexual tension was being unwound 
and released. 

Simultaneously, we *got up and 
staggered to her bed . We threw our clothes 
on the floor and crawled into each other's 
arms. She began by going down on me, 
.and I spread my legs as wide as I could. It 
had been a long. time. My nipples were 
aching, and I told her to suck them. She 
did, and they felt better. After our lovemak- 
ing, we got under the covers and went io 
sleep. I felt much at ease in the morning 
and hadn't the slightest feeling of guilt. 

We've been getting together about twice 
a week, and so far it's been better than I 
thought it would be. However, I'm still look- 
ing for a man. Lady-licking is great, but 
there is something luscious about a 
prick. — Name and address withheld 

Unexpected treat 

My roommate and I have been reading 
Penthouse "Forum" for two years, and. we 
love it, but we weren't sure how authentic 
the stories were until about .a month ago. 
First of all, let me tell you, my roomie is 
endowed with ten and one-half inches of 
prime, circumcised meat (I'll call him Sam). 
I myself have only nine and a foreskin, but I 
put every inch of if fa. good use. 

One day, when we. were driving home 
from a basketball game, we eyed (wo 

tcrnir r w. beauties hitchhiking. From the car 
we could see [heir erec: nippies backed by 
Ihirty-six- and thirty-eight- inch chests. We 
were dazzled ! Sam told me to pull over, and 
we picked them up. They introduced them- 
selves as Barbara and Sue, and I asked 
them where they were going. 

"Your house!" Sue said. We then knew 
what was in store for us. We both felt our 
bulges starting to grow. The rest of the ride 
was quiet. We got to our apartment, en- 
tered, and stood there as the girls entic- 
ingly fondled their own tits. We were excited 
ocycid expectations. Sam took Sue, and 
Barbara and I sat on the couch. Sam 
started playing with Sues yoni. As Barbara 
unzipped my pants, she was surprised to 
find a swollen nine-incher. At ihe other end, 
Sam was -feasting upon Sue's nipples, as 
she gently caressed his oock. The action 
was getting "hot and heavy" as Sue 
jumped on Sam and gave him the fuck of 
his life! 

While I was just beginning to ram my rod 
into Barbara's pussy, I could see Sam's 
tc"i-inche r slowly c'sappear ino Sue's hot, 
swollen, juicy cunt. Sam moaned with ex- 
citement as he reached a violenl orgasm, at 
the 'same iime that Sue did. Barbara was 
pumping and gyrating with such intensity 
that I couldn't hold back any more, and I 
exploded my come into her tight, tight 

We. all lay there, exhausted, for an hour, 
and then Sam and I switched to enjoy it 
once more. After we both climaxed, we got 
dressed and drove the girls home. Sam 
and I hope we'll run into them again! — 
Name and address withheld 

Mistress of the house 

I am a thirty-two-year-pld woman who is 

married to an army officer stationed in 

Europe. I do not know why my husband. 
Hank, allows me to have complete control 
and power over him, but he does, and I 
make the most of it. He likes me to give him 
orders, punish him, and humiliate him. I get 
so turned on by having this power that I 
spend each day dreaming of what 1 will do 
when he gets home that evening. If some- 
one here recognizes us from this letter, my 
husband will be even more humiliated. 

He is a very handsome man and- has a 
bigger endowment between his legs than 
any other man that 1 have ever seen or 
heard of has. He could have any woman he 
wants and control her, but he likes it this 
way, and I love it! I love to make him sit 
naked in front of me. while he slowly strokes 
his huge cock. I won't let him come. I make 
him stroke himself for. over an hour and then 
I command him to stop without coming. 
One night I was watching him, and I began 
to wonder if he could suck his own cock, 
since it is so long. I ordered him to take his 
hands off of his dick and undress me. The 
fool almost went crazy He thought that I 
was readytolethimfuckme. I stopped him 
just as he started to take me. I made him sit 
on the floor in front of me as I sat in a chair 
with my legs opened wide. I parted my cunt 
and made him watch as I played with my- 

self until i was very we!. large as his own. Later, when we were all 

Then I ordered him to sil on the footstool undressed. I saw that Jerry had a beauti- 
and put his lips to his cock. He was fully shaped cock to. match his body. I 
Shocked, bu: bo obeyed arc Kissed the suck-ed it until it was hard, ard Lhen I "lea- 
rounded glans of his dick. When he looked sured it. It was just a little over eleven 
up, I slapped bolh of his cheeks and inches long. No ! quilo sc big as Hank's. 1 
shouted at him, "No, damn it. lake it in your lay back on some cushions on the floor and 
mouth and suck ill" "But I can't," he spreadmy legs wide, allowing both :-<;n ie 
whined, 1 slapped his face three more look intomy pussy as I drooled over those 
times, and he obeyed me by taking the two big. ihrobbing peters right in Front of me. 
glans and about two inches into his moulh. "Hank, take Jerry's cock and put it in my 
i" pushed his head down about two more cunt," I ordered. He obeyed, guiding that 
inches and n r do[ed. ,, S,ick it! Suck it hard!" beautiful dick into my pussy. As he slowly 
• He sucked while I watched. I go! so horny pushed deeper and deeper, I raised my 
that I put- my hand into my pussy and knees higher and higher until I fell his balls 
worked it in and out until 1 came. Hank on my anus. I made Hank put his face 
sucked his own dick ur: ; l saw it s?ar" to jerk within inches of my pussy so that he could 
and spurt come into his mouth. "Keep see it being stretched as Jerry's cock 
sucking!" I de- 
manded. "Swallow 
that come the way I 
do." As I watched 
drops of come es- 
cape from his mouth 
and run down his 
cock, I wanted that 
magnificent dick in 
my cunt, bull held off 
and made him suck 
my ass until I came 

Then I made him 
get the big rubber 
dildo and. gently fit it 
into my cunt. He had 
to lick and suck my 
toes while I fucked 
myself with the rubber 
cock. When I saw that 
he was hard again, I 
made him slowly pull 
Che dildo out and 
hand it to me. I made 
him bend over while I 
beat his ass with the 
dildo. When his ass 
was red all over, I hit 
him on his cock sev- 
eral times. He loved it. 
Then I lay back with 
my legs spread wide 
and ordered him to 
fuck me. He put that 
giant cock in me and 
came in less than a 

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gently slid his lubricated dick in and out, At 
that point I allowed Hank to join in. With him 
. on his back and his huge cock deep inside 
my pussy, I had Jerry reinsert his wonderful 
prick into my bum. I demanded that both 
men hold back and not come. I was full of 
cock, and it was like a dream come true. 1 
had never felt so satisfied before. 

I had both men get on their sides, but- 
tock to buttock, so that their balls were 
touching. Then I attempted to get both 
cock heads in my mouth at once. I couldn't 
do it. I finally gave up and rolled over on my 
back and had the men kneel on each side 
of my head while I took turns sucking them. 
Young Jerry couldn't stand it. He shot come 
into my mouth, all over my face and neck, 
and all over Hank's cock. 

Jerry left then, and 
I punished Hank for 
not bringing home a 
cock as big as his. I 
tied him down with 
his ass up in the air. 
Then I whipped him 
with the rubber cock 
until he cried. Then I 
made him suck it 
while I greased his 
anus. I pulled the 
dildo out of his mouth 
and shoved it up his 
big, sexy ass until he 
screamed. I fucked 
him like that for half 
an hour. 1 punished 
him further by not let- 
ting him come that, 

The next day was 
Sunday, and Hank 
was off all day; so I 
decided to be really 
mean. I woke him up 
and told him to stay 
naked. Then I tied a 
heavy cord around 
his cock and led him 
to the kitchen by pull- 
ing on the cord. I 
warned him that if he 
complained, I would 
tie the cord around 
his balls, which" I 
love — they're big as 

minute Ofcourse I whipped him again for plungedinanddut.Thenl hadHankputhis oranges. I made him cook breakfast and 

coming too quickly but only after 1 made cock into my mouth so that Jerry could made himdrfnk seven cups of coffee. Then 

In, i I mil until I ame. watch. Suddenly. I felt hot come spurting I told him thai he was not allowed to piss 

After whipping his ass and legs, i made upinsideof me. All of this was justtoo much unless I gave him perm ssion. 

him .[lowed for the inexperienced young man. I had confined ;:i a friend, Jo, about our 

him to clean himself and go to sleep. 1 made Hank take his dick out of my K whai I 

Several weeks later 1 ordered Hank to mouth, and I quickly moved around to put was doing to Hank. She begged me to let 

find asailor an enlisted man, with adickas Jerry's still-spurting prick into my mouth. 1 her come over and watch; so I agreed, 

big as his own and bring him home. He drank his come and kept sucking until he When she arrived and saw us both nude. 

protested but I slapped him and made him was hard again. I felt as if 1 were floating. My her eyes almost popped out. She gasped 

do it He could not find anyone with a cock head was spinning with delight. Then I got when she saw Hank's cock. Sne became 

that big but he did the best that he could, on my hands and knees and ordered my horny and wanted to take off her clothes. I 

He brought home a beautiful young man. husband to grease my anus and Jerry's agreed and got her to spread her cunt for 

Jerry, twenty years old- he had short blond" dick with KY. Then I made Hank fit Jerry's Hank to see. His prick got hard, and with 

hair deep blue eyes, and a slim, muscular cock into my anus. He had to fuck me with that cord around it fhe veins stood out and 

body. After dinner and a few drinks we ■ only about half of his peter in me because I made it look even bigger. Jo begged me to 

turned the conversation to sex. That's when couldn't stand it any deeper. My anus was let her suck that huge cock. 1 agreed but 

Hank told me that Jerry's cock was not so on fire, but I came over and over as he told them both that Hank was not to come 

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gle lens reflex camera, you may have 
wondered how to find the right one out 
of the bewildering array of models and 
features available. 

And you have good reason to'wonder, 
since the camera you choose will have a 
lot to do with how creative and reward- 
ing your photography will" be. 

Of course, what you pay for your 
camera is important. But it shouldn't be 
your only coi > ■;;.;? »\?i'.r- u -" : :x.'Cially since 
there are very expens 

andshoot sivrij ik I; ■ : . h* .Isfference is in 
the kind of creative control you get. 

For landscapes, still lifes, portraits and 
the like, you'll want -an aperture-priority 
camera. It lets you set the lens opening, 
while it sets the shutter speed' automati- 

This way, you control depth-of-field. 
That's the area of sharpness in front of 
and behind your subject. Many profes- 
sional photographers believe that depth- 
of-field is the single most important 

the lens opening automatically. 

Minolta makes, both types of auto- 
matic camera. L he Minolta XG-7 is 
moderately priced and offer? aperture- 
priority automation, plus fully manual 
control. The Minolta XD-1 1 is some- 
what more expensive, but it offers 
both aperture and shutter-priority auto- 
mation, plus full manual. The XD-11 
is SO advanced that during shutter- 
priority operation it will actually make 
fail to make. 

exactly die right 
Whether that means the advanced 
Minolta XD-1 1. Or the easy-to-use and 
moderately priced Minolta XG-7. Or the 

that won't give you some o( the 
features you really need. So before • 
you think about price, ask yourself how 
you'll be using the camera and what 
kind of pictures you'll be taking; Your 
answers could save a lot of money. 
How automatic 
should your camera be? 
Basically, there are two kinds of auto- 
matic 35mm SLR's. Both make use of 
advanced electronics to give you per- 
fectly exposed pictures with point, 

factor in a 
At time: 
motion of 
effect. You 
priority ca! 

eative photography. 
■ you may want to control the 
your subject for creative 
can do this with an aperturc- 
nera by changing the lens 
itii the 

-peed necessary to- free® 
ing subject. Or you'ean ___ . 
friorirj-camera, on which you 
shutter speed first and the car 

blur a 

Do you really need an « 
automatic camera? 
\t'ithout a doubt, automation makes 
fine photography easier. But if you're 
willing to do some of the work yourself, 
you Can save a lot of money and get pic- 
tures that are every bit as good. 

In this case, you might consider a 
Minolta SR-T These are semi-automatic 
cameras. They have built-in, through- 
the-lcns metering systems that tell you 
exactly how to set the lens and shutter 
for perfect exposure, 'tbu just 
align two indicators- in the 
view finder. 
What should you expect 

when you look into 

the camera's viewfinder? 

The finder should, of course, 

,, . ■ ., .,..:...■, ;\ 

Automatic sequence photography 

X1M t or XG-7 with optional Auto 
Winder aivi Eiectroflash 200X. 

your subject. Not just in the center but 
even along the edges and in the corners. 
All Minolta SLR's have bright view- 
finders, so" that composing and .focusing 
are effortless, even in dim light. And 
with a Minolta there's never a question 
about focusing. You'll find focusing 
aids in every Minolta 35mm SLR view- 
finder that make it 
easy to take criti- 
cally sharp pictures. 

Information is 
another thing you 
can expect to find 
in a well-designed 
vii'v.lHnder. Minolta 
believes that you 
should never have 
to look away from 
the finder in order 

everything you need 

to know for a perfect picture is right 

there in. a Minolta finder. 

In the Minolta; XD-11 and.XG-7, 
red light emitting; i!:i«:i- te:i you 
what, lens opening or shutter speed- is 
i-eingset automatically and warn against 
under or over-exposure. In Minolta 
SR-T cameras, there are two pointers 
which come together as you adjust the 
Ici-i- and shutter for correct exposure. 
Do you need an auto winder? 
ll vou like the idea or sequence pictog- 
raphy, or simply want the luxury of 
power assisted 1 i 1 i~i .idviincii ,g, an auto 
winder may he for you. Minolta auto 
winders will advance one picture at. a 
time, or continuously a: about two pic- 
tures per second. And they give you 
a e; vantages not found in others, like up 
to 50u' more pictures with a set of bat- 
teries and easv attachment to the camera 
without removing any caps. Optional 
auto winders are available for both the 
Minolta XD-11 and XG-7, but not for 
Minolta SR-T cameras. 

How about electronic flash' 
An automatic electronic flash can be 
combined with any Minolta SLR for 
easy, just about foolproof indoor pho- 
tographs without the bother of flash- 
bulbs. For the XD-11 and XG-7, 
Minolta makes the Auto Electtofiash 
200X. It sets itself automatically for cor- 
rect flash exposure, anc: it sets the cam- 
era- automatically for use with flash. An 
LED in the view-finder tells when the 
2C0X is ready to fire. Most unusual: the 
Auto'Etectroflash 200X can 

synchronization with M 

Imagine being 


flash pictures without ever faking youi 
finger off the button. 

feu should be comfortable 
wifK your camera. 
The way a camera feels in your hands 
and responds to your commands can 
make a big difference in the way you 
take pictures. 

so you can get into your own 
What about the lens system? 

Just about every 35mm SLR has a lens 
"system:' But it's important to knOw 
what the system eorvtais'i;-. !t should be 
big enough to satisfy your needs, not 
only today, but five years from today. 

There are almost 40- 
lenses available for 
Minolta SLR's, 
ranging from 
7.5mm fisheye to 
16C0mm super-tele- 
photo, including 

The Minolta XD-1 1 and XG-7, for 

instance, are compact, but not cramped. 
Lightweight, bur with a solid feeling of 
quality. Controls are oversized and posi- 
tioned so that your fingers fall naturally 
into place. And trie electronically con- 
trolled shutters in tke-e advanced auto- 
matic cameras are incredibly smooth 
and quiet. 

Minolta SR-T's give you the heft and 

.■. igh; ■ >■ ■ ■/ lar: s ; imera, but 

with no sacrifice in iiatidhr.g conve- 
nience. As in all Minolta SLR's, ''human 
'■inoot.h, effortless 

Depending on i 
Minolta model 
choose, you cat 
select from 
ber of sped 

, For ins! 

models let you 
take multiple expo- 

with pushbutton 
(even with an auto -winder). 
Other available - 
window to snow that film is 
advancing properly, a randy 

10 holder that holds the end 
of a film box to remind you of 
what film you're using, and a self 
that delays the release of the shutter 

lenses and the 
smallest 500mm 
lens in the world. 
™r C ' mS And since inter- 

ve you correct changeable lenses 

should be easy to 
change, the 
patented Minolta bayonet mount lets " ' 
you remove or attach them with less 
than a quarter turn. 

What's next? 
After you've thought about how you'll - 
be using your camera, ask your photo 
dealer to let you try a Minolta. Handle 
the camera for yourself. Examine its fea- 
tures and the v,ay Minolta has paid close 
attention to even the smallest details. 
And by all means, compare it with other 
cameras in its price range. You'll soon 
see why more Americans buy Minolta 
than any other brand of SLR. For litera- 
ture, write Minolta Cdrpot 
101 Williams Dr., Ramsey, N.j. 07446. 

■ ■ W . ■ '.'. ■"■ ■■ ' ■■ ■.:■■: ■■' : ■ u A, 

nri sta-ted 
made her 

* him piss, 

she had 
my affair 

thought that he was coming, but then I 
realized that he was pissing! It was a 
strange sensation. After he finished, he 
came. I got up with all of it streaming down 
my thighs, and I whipped his ass and cock 
furiously because he had not received my 
permission to do what he did. 

Hank is such a pleasure to dominate be- 
cause he is so obedient and loves it when I 
punish him. Sometimes I get his cock really 
hard; then I push it down between his legs 
so that it hurts. I also like to squeeze his 
balls and make him beg. When his cock is 
not hard, I sometimes force the head into 
_ his anus and make him leave it there for 
hours. Once he even came in his own ass! 

That was the ultimate turn-on. 

I love my husband and his cock, and 1 
love our mistress-slave relationship. But I 

am afraid that if I run out of fresh Ideas, he 
will get bored with me and look for someone 
else.. I could not stand that.— Name and 
address withheld 

A spanking good time 

I'm a twenty-eight-year-old divorcee who 
had been active in the lib movement— not 
on abig scale, but I had given men a pretty 
bad time since my divorce. One day last 
month. I got a call from my young -none 
Betty who asked if she could spend the 
night with me because she had just had a 
spat with her husband, Bob. I said that she 
could, and that I would pick her up right 

When I got to Betty's house, I found Bob 
and a young man. whom he introduced as 
Larry, drinking beer in the kitchen. They 
said Betty had already left for my house. I 
began to give Bob a bad time for upsetting 
Betty, and in a few minutes Larry told me to 
shut up. I told him to go to hell. Larry stood 
up — he is tall, about six foot three, slender 
but very powerfully built. Without a word he 
just picked me up — I'm only five foot one 
and 108 pounds — and carried me over to 
the den couch. He laid me across his lap, 
face down, and flipped my skirt up to my 
waist. I tried to struggle, but he was so big 
and strong I couldn't move except from my 
knees down. I realized my panty-covered 
rear was exposed to Bob and this stranger, 
and I was cursing with embarrassment. 
Then Larry began to whack me very hard. I 

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Face the Nation!" 

was crying as much from the humiliation as 
from the pain. After about six spanks, he 
released me, and I came up fighting. But 
he just blocked the blows with those big 
arms and laughed. 

I picked up an ashtray and threw it, It 
missed, but Larry quit laughing and 
grabbed me, throwing me roughly across 
his lap again. Her jerked my skirt up and 
began to spank me. Tttis lime I knew it was 
_.;e-r?s v s'r^ggi- •.'-:■ js* whimpered as 
he spanked me even harder, After about 
the fourth whack, I began to get excited. I 
was actually getting aroused. I don't re- 
member how many more times he spanked 
me, but when he released me. I slid off his 
lap to the rug and just sat there, rubbing my 
rear, whimpering more than crying. I didn't 
even bother to pull my skirt down. 

In a moment I heard Larry say. "I think 
she'd like to get laid." I don't know how he 
and Bob knew I was excited, except ihai I 
hadn't bothered to pull my skirt down. I did 
then. But I didn't get up and leave. "Well, 
get up on the couch," Larry said. I couldn't 
believe it. but I actually got up on the 
couch. I lay down and put my left arm 
across my eyes. One of the guys — Larry. I 
assume — slid my skirt up. I knew they were 
both looking at me from the front now. I felt 
myself getting even wetter. Then Larry said. 
"Well, if you want to get fucked, get those 
panties oft." I moved my arm and looked 
over at Bob and asked Larry, "He's going to 
leave, isn't he?" "Hell no," Bob said, laugh- 

I put my arm back across my eyes and 
with my other hand began to slide my pant- 
ies off. When I had kicked .them off my 
ankles, l felt someone get on the couch. It 
was Larry. He had taken off his jeans, and I 
saw his huge erection. He pushed my 
knees back against my chest and entered 
me easily, because I was so wet. He must 
have stroked only once or twice when I had 
a giant orgasm, I was moaning for the first 
time ever during sex. I don't know how long 
he fucked me. It wasn't long, but I had 
another orgasm. 

Larry must have come, too. He stood up, 
and I felt Bob's weight on the end of the 
couch. Bob told me to lie across his lap, 
which I did— I thought he was going to 
spank me, too. Instead he pushed his hand 
between my legs and began to massage 
my clit with his finger. He would go slowly 
and then faster, and I started to moan 
again. Bob would stop and say. "You want 
to come for Larry and me, don't you?" If I 
didn't say, "Yes, yes," he'd stop until I did. 
When I was just about to come, he put two 
fingers in me and just held them there, and I 
had to buck and hump until I had another 
orgasm. When I had, I just lay there until 
Larry helped me up. Bob picked up my 
panties and spread them for me to step 
into. I did, and he slid them on and petted 
me very gently on my pussy and said, "We 
won't say anything to Betty." 

I guess they didn't, and neither did I, But 
I've been back twice to get spanked and 
fucked. I've got to have both.— Wame and 
address withheld 


The man. The cigarette. They, speak for 

Ordinary cigare™., ,. 

Camel Filters has. ~— 

Its blend of Turkish and Domestic tobaccos 
gives him what he smokes for. 

Pleasure. Satisfaction. 

A Camel Filters Man understands, why the 
best times are often the simplest. 
:.. Doyou? 

Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined | 
That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health. 

Shopping fun 

I am a t we nty-two-y oar-old :na r i Ah'.' was 
recently laid off from work. Wilh nothing to 
do one morning, I thought I'd go buy some 
new clothes. I wasn't prepared for what 
happened. I went into a big department 
store and starled looking at some jeans. 
From behind me a voice said, "Can I help 
you?" As I turned around. I realized I had 
brushed against the breast of a very young 
and pretty saleswoman. She gasped, and 
then a big smile lit up her face. 1 
apologized, but she said il was quite all 
right, and we began lo talk. Her name was 
.Brenda. and she had just started work, I 
told her I needed some new jeans, and she 
replied, "Well, let's try some on." I couldn't 
believe my eyes and ears as she led me to 
the changing room, 

Luckily, the store was about empty, since 
it was early. We went into the room and 
closed the door. Brenda immediately un- 
dressed me, and when my cock popped 
up. she began to fondle it with her hands 
and mouth. I quickly took off her blouse 
and bra to reveal two gorgeous breasts and 
nipples that were already hard. When I 
started sucking on those luscious nipples, 
a pink flush crept from her face to her 
breasts. Next I unhooked her short skirt 
and dropped it to the floor. As I pulled her 
panties oif , I saw that the crotch was soak- 
ing wet. Her pussy was literally dripping 
with love juice, and she started moaning as 
I licked it up, My tongue went deep inside 

n.-;sf'h.-.-dy :ilis:-r 'ig ps and tucked ovc' 
her throbbing clit By now she was shaking 

time. Standing up I guided my cock into 
her. She wrapped her legs tightly around 
me and braced herself against the wall 
while I pumped furiously. When I reached 
down with one hand and lingered her ass 
hole, we both exploded together. Brenda 
continued pumping in a frenzy, and she 
came at least twice more before she "let 
go" of my cock. After 1 pulled it out of her, 
she kept staring at it. 

We then rested- a few minutes and 
dressed. When we came back into the 
main store, it was still quiet. Brenda said 
with a smile, "Will that be all. sir?" I got her 
address and started to leave. When I 
glanced back, I saw her standing behind 
the counter with her legs pressed together 
tightly, slowly rubbing her mound against 
the table. Needless to say, this was not the 
end of our relationship. — Name and ad- 
o'.tss withheld 

Golden oldies 

I enjoy the "Forum" section of Penthouse 

very much. But sometimes ! wonder why 

the women are always in their twenties, with 
large, firm breasts that stand out straight 
with a gentle uplift. No one ever writes 
about older women with ample breasts that 
no longer stand out firmly but rather cup to 
make a soft, pleasing handful. I have one of 
these- bodies. 


"And they told me it would be lonely at the topi" 


As we entered the bar. I unbuttoned the 
lop three buttons ol my blouse, so that 
when I turned just right it would "gap" open, 
exposing my breasts almost to the nipples. 
We sat at the bar, with my husband on the 
right, so that whoever sat on my left would 
get a good look at my breasts when my 
blouse would part. 

Several young. : men came in, and, as we 
had anticipated, one of them sat on my left. 
The others took the nearby stools. They 
didn't look old enough to drink and the bar- 
tender asked for identification. The one 
next lo me was just twenty-one, .and his 
friends and he were celebrating his birth- 
day. My husband bought them alia drink 
and toasted his birthday. I leaned.over. fac- 
ing th"em, so that my blouse would gap- 
open. The young men stared at my_ ex- 
posed breasts and then looked me in the 
eyes. I just smiled. They took another look 
and gulped down their drinks. As they or- 
dered another round. I could feel my nip- 
pies Hardening. 

The jukebox started playing, and the 
young men started dancing, that is, all ex- 
cept the one sitting next to me. 1 asked him 
why he wasn't dancing. He said he didn't 
dance fast the way the girls liked to. I asked 
him if he would like to dance slow with me. 
As he glanced at my tits, I knew what his 
answer was. I discreetly led him to the 
darkest corner of the dance floor, where it 
wouldn't be noticeable that he was dancing 
with a woman old enough to be his mother. I 
pulled him to me, putting his hand inside 
my blouse, cupping my bare tit hanging out 
of my half bra. The music stopped. 1 rear- 
ranged myself, As we took our places back 
at the bar, 1 ran my hand between his legs, 
feeling his hardness. 

He excused himself and wilh his friends 
went to the men's room. As I'd anticipated, 
he told them what had happened, From 
then on they all danced with me. It was 
more like groping than like dancing. After 
more dancing, I told my husband we had 
better leave before I started tucking on the 
dance floor We left and walked to the side 
of the building to our car. The young men 
were right behind us. 1 turned around, fac- 
ing them. I grabbed my blouse and ripped 
it open and said, "How do you like these?" 
My husband unsnapped my bra, took it off,. 
and let my bare tits fall out. Hands and 
mouths were all over them. I was ready for a 
gangbang right in the parking lot. My hus- 
band, bless him, took control and got me in 
the car. I wanted to fuck; they wanted to 
fuck. So my husband said, "Okay, two of 
you get in the backseat, and we will take 
you home with us." 


Try Windsor. It's got a reputation for smoothness. 

By the lime my husband got io the other 
side of the car and into the driver's seat, 1 
had the rest of my clothes off and was 
climbing into the backseat. The studs were 
all over me before we were out of the park- 
ing lot. They both fucked me on the way 
home, where we parked in the carport. My 
husband opened the back door of the 
car— now" his fly was open, and he was 
ready He leaned me against the car, push- 
ing his cock into my cunt as the loads the 
others had shot into me came dripping out. 
I grabbed the other two by the necks and 
pulled a mouth to each breast. I reached 
down, took a cock in each hand, and had a 
climax, almost passing out. I would have 
fallen to the floor of the carport if they had 
not all held me up. 

The front doorbell was ringing as we en- 
tered the house from the back door. My 
husband opened the door, and there were 
the other young men. It would lake too long 
to describe in detail all that happened in 
the next three hours, even if I could re- 
member. My husband is helping me fill in 
the details, as it is. All 1 can say is that a 
woman has never really enjoyed sex to the 
fullest until she has had one man fucking 
her, a different man sucking each breast, a 
cock in each hand, and one in her mouth. 
As the guys continually changed positions' 
my climaxes were continual for the next 
three hours, as they took turns fucking me. I 
don't know how many times each one 
fucked me, but I sure was glad there were 


six of Ihem shooting their loads into me for 
lubrication, or my cunt could not have taken 

Afterward, as I lay exhausted on the floor. 
the young men and my husband had cof- 
fee and talked. They wanted to come back 
the next weekend, but my husband ex- 
plained that we don't plan these parties 
ahead of time. When the mood strikes, we 
party; otherwise, we are very conventional 
people. As they were leaving, Ihey said 
they had learned one thing. When they 
want real sex, they will forget the young 
girls and pick out the older, attractive, ma- 
ture women. They left a phone number 
where they could be reached, but we will 
not call. We want variety, not repetition.— 
Name and address withheld 

A fox in the chicken coop 
1 am a dormitory adviser at a small, all-male 
religious college in New York. As such, my 
prime duty is to ensure that no females are 
on the premises after 11:00 p.m. Even 
though I think that this rule is absurd, it's my 
job to enforce it. 

Anyhow, I was doing a floor check at 
12:00 a.m. when I heard the unmistakable 
sound of a couple engaged in some heavy 
fucking. I burst into the room and saw a 
freshman student banging away at a beau- 
tiful redhead . They both jumped out of bed 
and onto the floor when they realized that I 
was 'standing there. The girl grabbed the 
blanket and wrapped it around her lush 

body. The student started to mumble that it 
was all a mistake, that he had intended that 
she leave by eleven, but that they had for- 
gotten what time it was. 

I started to inform the student that he was 
to be brought up on charges for dormitory 
suspension, when his lady dropped the 
blanket and struck a pose that made me 
forget what I was saying. She walked to- 
ward me. totally unashamed. She then told 
me that she would give me the best head I 
had ever received if I would forget the entire 

I'm not stupid. I quickly agreed, and she 
pulled out my long dick and started to 
massage it with her hand while she en- 
thusiastically licked the head. I got rock 
hard in seconds, and she switched her 
target to my balls for a, moment. During the 
next half hour, I thought I would burst. She 
had a way of knowing just when I was ready 
to come and would grab my dick with her 
teeth (lightly) just behind the tip, holding 
me off. She finally let me come, and I 
thought that I had left a quart in her mouth. 
She swallowed every drop and continued 
to lick tiny drops .off my shaft. I leaned back 
in total satisfaction. 

In the meantime the student kissed his 
girl and thanked her. She slapped him and 
called him a coward for not protesting. To 
make a long story short, Lisa and I are living 
together, and that student was suspended 
by another counselor for smoking pot. I 
■ guess he felt the need tor some kind of 
compensation over losing Lisa. Bending 
the rules can sometimes be beneficial! — 
J.C., New York, NX 

Rules of the road 

My boyfriend and I go out of town a lot, and 
our trips are usually quite long, but very 
exciting, especially the trip home. 

I always sit very close to him, snuggled 
up under his right shoulder. In fact, I get so 
close that it's very easy for him to reach up 
and play with my breasts. He unbuttons my 
blouse and moves my bra so that he can 
feel my nipples becoming hard. While I'm 
enjoying this, my hand has found its way to 
the huge bulge in his pants. We're both 
breathing heavily as I rub his hardened 
crotch and as his hands move all over my 
breasts. I reach up and kiss his ear and lick 
the side of his neck. Of course, the oncom- 
ing traffic is aware that something is going 
on in the car The excitement has gotten so 
tremendous, and finding a side road is im- 
possible; so I take him into my own hands. 

I unzip his pants and let his penis spring 
forth, the drops of his juices showing me his 
excitement. I lean down in the seat and lick 
the tip of his penis, and as I pull back the 
skin and run my tongue around and around 
his tool. I can hear and feel the engine of 
the car racing. His foot is pushing hard on 
the accelerator as I wrap my soft, warm, 
moist lips around the head of his ever-so- 
slrong penis. His hands are all over my 
breasts. I begin slowly taking his instru- 
ment deeper and deeper into my mouth, 
sucking wildly and feeling its warmth while 
I'm sucking up and down and rolling it 

around in my hot mouth. The car must be 
going ninety as 1 feel him explode his sweet 
juices into my mouth. — Name and address 

Girl jocks 

I'm writing to Penthouse concerning the 
myth I've heard that girl jocks are not so 
sensual as others. Recently a girls' bas- 
kelball state championship was held in my 
hometown. Some friends and I decided to 
cruise the hotels in which the teams were 
staying in hopes of finding pussy 

Cruising through the parking lot of a 
nearby Holiday Inn, we observed some ac- 
tivity around two doors. Upon closer 
scrutiny, we spotted several girls running 
between the adjacent rooms. Only two of 
us approached in order that the girls 
wouldn't be scared off. Before long we were 
in their room, and the two other guys had 
joined the party After about thirty minutes 
of conversation four of the girls followed us 
outside to the car. 

I wanted to get one of them alone;, so I 
took a really cute chick, Penny, aside and 
suggested that we retire to her room. She 
responded in her husky, sexy voice, "What 
do we need a room for?" At that point the 
other three couples began to excuse 
themselves. From that point on, I was in 
heaven. As we necked, her hand slid up my 
thigh to my crotch, which at this time was 
hard with anticipation. Her actions took me 
by surprise, for it had always taken a lot of 

coaxing on my part for me even to get a 
hand .in a girl's pants. 

Composing ourselves, we went up to her 
room. As Penny opened the door, we heard 
soft moaning coming from the darkened 
room. Growing impatient because we 
wanted each other again, we entered the 
room and quickly undressed each other, 
fondling each other's genitals with re- 
newed passion. As I caressed Penny's 
baby-soft tits, I recognized the other 
couple. My friend Thomas and Penny's 
roommate Sandra were involved in their 
own lovemaking. 

I mounted Penny from the rear and thrust 
deep inside her wet cunt while Thomas was 
going at Sandra missionary style. I had 
never made love to a girl with another 
couple nearby and I was surprised at how 
much I was getting off on the situation. After 
a few minutes all four of us came together. 

After more fucking, we left their room at 
about sunrise so that their coach wouldn't 
catch us. Meeting the other guys back at 
the car, Thomas and 1 related our experi- 
ences with the girl basketball players. We 
weren't surprised to hear similar stories 
from the two other guys. 1 hope this letter 
will lay an old myth to rest. Don't take my 
word for it, though — go out and try a girl 
jock for yoursell! — F.H.,Murtreesboro, Tenn. 

Fit to be tied 

I am a nineteen-year-old college student in 
Canada, and I am an avid reader of your 

very popular magazine. Until recently, a lot 
of stories appearing about "sex in college" 
seemed quite ludicrous, to say the least. 
But now I feel that I, as a sex-starved stu- 
dent, should pass on this delightful story to 
be enjoyed .by all of your readers. 

i was sitting in my apartment, catching 
up on some physics assignments, when a 
girl friend of my roommate came by, looking 
for Bob. Her name is Utah. She is a sump- 
tuous tive-foot-four-inch blonde with pert 
tits and a nice, tight ass. She was wearing 
white lace-up pants (laced to the fullest) 
and a tight blue sailor shirt. When she 
asked where Bob had gone, I replied that 
Bob had gone "fishing" (a popular pastime). 

After a bit of campus small talk and a 
couple of good stiff drinks, our conversa- 
tion drifted around to the topic of sex. We 
starled talking about kinky fantasies that 
were yet to be fulfilled. As time went on, 
Utah saw the bulge in my crotch. Eventu- 
ally there was nothing left for me to do but 
ask her if she would like her dreams to 
cometrue. She said yes. 

She tied my limbs down to the corners of 
the bed and began cutting and tearing my 
clothes off. She then ran her erect nipples 
across my chest and face. She kept teas- 
ing me with her wet bush, bringing it close 
to my mouth — just out of tonguing reach. 
This teasing got me really hard, and she 
decided to go down on me. She gently 
licked the bottom of my cock, proceeding 
from the shaft to the tip. Occasionally, she 

UK about: 

46Its impossible to imagine a more 
exciting movie. . .an Oscar contender 
that stands a good chance of rivalling the 
cult status of 'Cuckoo's Nest'. 9 9 

— Rona Barrett 


w«? M^- 

Coniing to Selected Theatres This FaB^^g 


I ^p 



• DfUCWgW 


■ ■ 


makes the best 'bloody' drinks in town. 
Going to your favorite restaurant? Just ask for a 


(Clamato and vodka) 

an's next turn she Hipped cvf 
: instructed all males to strip. 
1 and I just locked at each ot : 
some egging on by our 

Oil" rtv 

■oe<i ■.: 

w>;k ha: 

ronfo, Canada 

Would Hoyle approve? 
My wile. Joan, and I have been married for 
just over three years and while we have 
often discussed mate swapping, we never 
thought that we would ever get upfhe nerve 
to try it. Finally, about three months ago. our 
dreams became reality. 

We had inviec another couple. John and 
Nancy, over for supper and a night of card 
playing. After a while everyone was getting 
tired of playing the same old card games. I 
then suggested we try playing something 
different and proceeded to take out an 
* '"adult card game, which another iriend had 
given to me sometime ago as a joke. After 
a little hesitation we all decided we had 
nothing to lose and began to play. Nancy 

tween our legs Next r was my turn to draw 
the card that would really get the game 
headed toward better Ihings. The card 
gave me the right to tell everyone else what 
to do. After a few seconds of Ihought, I 
ordered John to remove Joan's pants. and 
panties, and then I instructed her to sit on 
his face. John almost tore her panties off, 
and her eyes lit up as she descended upon 
his tace. Then I began ro undo Nancy's 
blouse, which I removed along with her bra. 
revealing two small but delicious-looking 

After a few more rounds, both girls, had' 
been completely stripped, and the four ol 
us sat around stark naked, John was the 
next one to gel things ro iing when he drew 
a card similar to the one I had earlier This 
time he ordered Nancy to deep throat me 
while my wife sat and watched. At first I. 

we wanted io Almost at once we were both 
headed for the door, and before long we 
were lying side by side in the bed where my 
wife and I had so often screwed. Suddenly, 
Nancy flipped over and thrust her hot. wet 
pussy into my face and began to give me a 
prize-winning blow job. After what seemed 
to be ages we both reached orgasm at the 
same time. 

After resting for a few moments, Nancy 
began stroking my limp cock. In a few sec- 
onds she had it fully erect and was guidfng 
it toward her hole. We then indulged in 
some of the best fucking 1 had ever done. 
Two hours later, when we finally exited from 
the bedroom, we found John and Joan 
lying in the middle of the living room floor. 
smoking cigarettes. Just seeing my wife in 
the arms of another man. with nothing on, 
began to make my penis hard again. Notic- 
ing this. Nancy dropped lo her knees and 
right in front of John brought me off. drain- 
ing every last bit of semen from my cock. 
Afterward we- retreated to separate rooms, 
but this time with our own wives. Joan and I 
then enjoyed some of the best sex together 
that we have ever had. While we have got- 
ten together with John and Nancy since 
that night, nothing will ever match that first 
experience.— S.P, Boston, Mass. 

Rubbed down and out 
I'm a swimmer at a university in Pennsylva- 
nia, and I iind the need for many rubdowns 
lo keep my muscles loose. One cold Janu- 
ary night I was very tired and sore from two 
long workouts, and, needless to say, I 
craved a rubdown. My girl Iriend had given 
me rubdowns before, but they weren't re- 
ally worthwhile. Tonight was different, 
though. At about midnight 1 went over to her 
room. I quickly shed my clothes and 
hopped into bed with her To my surprise, 
her body was very warm. At first, 1 thought 
that the reason was that she had a very 
heavy blanket on,' but it wasn't She slowly 
turned over and kissed me passionately. 
She was very hot, and we petted for a few 
minutes. When I suggested that she give 
me a rubdown. she was very willing. 

She straddled my ass with her nice, 
warm pussy and began to work on my 
shoulders and arms. I could feel all of her 
hoi moisture on both of my cheeks. After a 
few minutes of very pleasing massaging. I 
could tell that she was really into it. My wide 
shoulders were starting to loosen up, but 
my cock remained rock hard . She was now 
sohotthather.sweet juices were starting to 
ooze into the crack of my ass. Because the 


air m he' roo-i i was somewhat cold, her hot 
come seemed much hotter. When' it started 
lo run in my anus. I was in heaven. 

With the combined effects of her great 
rubdown and thai hot come running in my 
anus. I shot my load without even bucking 
her off. We were so exhausted thai we fell 
asleep immediately It was a very intense 
experience for both of us Jusl sitting here 
writing this lot'.or nas (jot me so horny that 
now I'm going to beat off.— Z.M.. Philadel- 
phia. Pa. 

Caught in the act 

I'm twenty years old. and the .girl I'm dating 
and very much in love with (1 plan to marry 
hef) hasjust turned eighteen. My mosl 
memorable experience happened one 
night when Lisa's mother was out of town. 
Only Lisa, her stepfather, and I were in the 
house. He was in his bedroom, and we 
were in the den. sitting on the sofa with a 
quilt over us. Lisa and I had been drinking 
teguila. and we were getting pretty loose. 1 
was kissing her very deeply and playing 
with her beau: ful lililc-lits. Needless to say, I 
got so horny that I had to have my lover's 
sweet pussy no matter what the conse- 

With her stepfather home, we couidn : 
head for Lisa's room" without a hassle. So 
we decided to chance being caught in the 
act, as she was just as horny as I. Thinking 
that if her stepfather came out of his room 
we would hear him. I put her legs over my 

shoulders arid raised hei ass high enough 
to pull her blue jeans down over her well- 
rounded buttocks. I left her jeans right 
above her knees. I leaned over to taste the 
sweetness between her legs. I could 
spread her legs only just enough to 
squeeze my head in. I parted he f lips and 
pulled at them, gently Tugging with my 
teeth. Then I plunged my tongue into her 
hot, sweet cunt, retract. ng only long 
enough to circle her clit and make her legs 
clamp down on my head. 

All the while L sa .vas massaging my dick 
through my |eans ner loot. After about 
live minutes, she pulled me up and begged 
me to ball her. She unzipped my pants and 
pulled Ihem down, as I had done hers. She 
pushed me back on the sofa and eagerly 
Longued my balls, taking each one into her 
mouth and sucking Ihem, Then she circled 
the head of my cock with her tongue and 
bobbed up and down furiously. I made her 
stop before I got off and turned her over on 
her stomach. She rested her head on the 
arm of the sofa and her beautiful bum stuck 
up in the air, exposing that sweet-smelling 
pussy that was now dripping delicious cunt 
juice. I mounted her dog style and slowly 
pushed my cock to the bottom of her 

I pumped slowly at first, gradually build- 
ing up speed while I leaned over to play 
with her tits. About three or four minutes 
later I could feel Lisa building up to an 
orgasm. As I was about to shoot my wad in 

A <& 

"'62. . .A great year for cork!" 

her. I heard the reT^gcsto:' doc open in the 
kilchcn which adjoined the den. I glanced 
up and saw Lisa's stepfather locking right 
at us! I rame harder than I can ever re- 
member coming. As 1 shot off I instinctively 
pulled my throbbing pecker out. which shot 
come everywhere! Of course, Lisa had ■ 
started heading for cover, too. and we must 
\- h ,. c o^pt qui(e a sight fighting over the 
quilt. When I looked back up, her step- 
father had gone. He had disappeared just 
as suddenly as he had appeared, appar- 
ently retiring to his room. He has never said 
a word lo either of us about what he.saw, but 
I'm positive he saw us balling our brains 
out. If he should read this (he also reads 
Penthouse) and should realize who is writ- 
ing this, all I can say is that I hope he en- 
joyed the experience. I did!— Name and 
address withheld 

Dirty pool 

I'm a lifeguard at a pool in Westchester 

County, and most of the days are tiring, 
drawn-out affairs in which my only aim is 
the acquisition of an extremely dark suntan 
and a paycheck. 

But one day last July I was assigned to 
close up Ihe pool. There had been one girl I 
had been noticing all day. and she had 
stationed herself right by my chair- 
probably to collect some glorious rays — 
but I had noliced that she kept positioning 
herself to face the chair and kept her eyes 
glued on me. The flesh from her luscious 
breasts quivered as she rested her nipples 
on the blanket she had brought. 

Finally, after I had cleared everyone out. I 
noticed that she was maintaining a holding 
pattern where I had been sitting before. My 
cock immediately sprang to attention, 
causing considerable pain in my skimpy 
trunks. It rubbed against my thigh, and I 
was forced to run with a limp, making me 
look like a veteran. 

Just as I came up to her. she pulled down 
Ihe bottom of her string bikini, revealing the 
kind of ass that is meant only for one 
thing— and I don't mean sitting down. I 
obligingly pulled down my bathing suit, but 
before I could prod her with my rod, she 
leaped into the water, crying, "Lifeguard, ■ 
save me!" Taking a racing dive. I struck out 
after her. Once we had arrived at the 
three-and-one-half-foot section of the pool, 
she picked up the hose, which had been 
lying on the bottom, and thrust it over her 
pubic mound. She was brought to orgasm 
within minutes, but unlike most of the 
mixed-up girls I go out with, she continued 
coming and coming. Realizing that I was 
about to clog up the filter by launching my 
own sperm into orbit, I pushed into her from 
Ihe rear and we rocked back and forth as 
we fucked. The bubbles from the hose rose 
along my shaft as I grabbed her thirty- 
eight-caliber breasts and squeezed them 
in absolute ecstasy. I came four times that 
night, and we finally collapsed exhausted 
on the deck, only to be awakened by the 
dawning sun. I haven't seen her since then, 
but I'm anxiously awailing the return of my 
filter lucking friend.— P.J.. Yonkers. N.Y. 


Camel Li 

msm s m 

at 9 mg. tar, is diffei 
With a richer-tastin 

Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined 
That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health. 

The Name to listen to. 

Oh, baby! 

I havG never seen a letter about my particu- 
lar fetish. So I am providing you with one 
describing how my wife typically allows me 
to indulge in my fantasies. I did not tell my 
wife of my fetish until after we were married . 
but luckily she enjoys acting it out with me 
and sometimes initiates the action with no 
prior warning. We do not always- employ 
these "props," but we do use them several 
times a month for something different in our 
sex life. 

She especially likes to play up to my 
fantasy when I am taking a bath. She enters 
wearing One of theschoolgirlish outfits that 
she uses for such occasions. My favorite 
one consists of a plaid jumper which barely 
comes to the crotch of her white cotton 
panties. She has her hair in pigtails. A frilly, 
white blouse does little to conceal the nip- 
ples of her firm breasts. A pair of knee- 
length white socks completes her outfit. 
She explains that she is to baby-sit for me 
for the night, and she finishes bathing me. 
Before she finishes. I have a throbbing 
hard-on. and it's all I can do to keep from 
coming as she dries me off. 

She then leads me into the bedroom, 
where I am "surprised" to see a diaper and 
two diaper pins on my bed. When I ask my 
baby-sitter what they are for. she matter-of- 
faotly explains that that's what I am to wear. 
I quickly explain that it has been many 
years since I outgrew such inings. out my 
protests are to no avail. I am "forced" to lie 


on the bed. ana she springes and rubs me 
with baby powder. Then she expertly pins 
the twenty-one-by-forty-inch Curity baby 
diaper on me and sticks a pacifier in my 

Occasionally, she puts a pair of Gerber 
toddler-size waterproof baby pants (and 
maybe a T-shirt) on me as welt Usually, 
though, I am left to continue my activities 
wearing only a diaper — and I must keep 
the pacifier in my mouth. Depending on my 
wife's mood, this may continue for several 
hours. If we eat during this time. I feed 
myself but must drink all liquids from a 
baby bottle. Eventually, my baby-sitter will 
approach me. take my pacifier from my 
mouth, and offer me "something better to 
suck on." She has me lie down, unbuttons 
her blouse, and lets me nurse her breasts. 1 
begin fondling her through her panties, 
and soon they are wet. When she feels hot 
enough, my diaper is unpinned to reveal 
my throbbing prick. Straddling me. she 
pulls the crotch of her panties aside and 
impales herself on me. Despite the fact that 
I am very excited by now. I usually have no 
.trouble delaying myself until my wife comes 
several times. 

Often my baby-sitter, after coming once 
or twice, will dismount and pin the diaper 
back on me without letting me come. When 
she does Ihis. I can be sure that I'll later 
perform cunnilingus oh her until she comes 
again. Usually, she will be sitting back in a 
■ chair with her skirt up around her waist and 

her.panties pulled down to her ankles ■■.'■.■■hen 
she calls for me. Then, after she has recov- 
ered from her orgasm(s). she leads me to 
the bedroom or simply lies on Ihe floor, re- 
moves my diaper, and lets me fuck her until 
I come inside her. 

Over the years we have developed 
scores of variations on this theme. My wife 
sometimes has me wear a pinafore and 
pink rumba panties over my diapers, or she 
makes sure that a diaper and rubber pants 
are all I have on under my regular clothes 
when we have company over. Sometimes I 
am Ihe one ic diaper her— in Ihe I 
often have her follow me into our backyard, 
wearing only a long T-shirt with a diaper on 
underneath. Most of Ihe time, though. I am 
the baby. 

We've tried wetting as part of our game. 
but we've found it doesn't add much and is 
quite messy as well. -N.S.. Decatur, III. 

First time 

Two weeks ago. while I was attending a 
party at a fraternity house at a large- west- 
ern Canadian university. I got quite high 
and met a beautiful young girl, who I 
thought was no more than eighteen. I will 
call-her Holly. 

I moved over and began a normal, 
university-level conversation. After talking 
to her awhile, we moved to the kitchen. 
where things were more quiet. Because it 
was a university fraternity party, most 
rooms were "taken." Gradually, the conver- 
sation turned to sex. I leaned back against 
the counter, and the next thing I knew, she 
had a pert tit thrust against my chest and 
was giving me the longest French kiss I hat' 
over experienced. Before I knew what 
happening, her hands were running all 
my body and slowly progressing toward my 
crotch, which was rapidly swelling in in- 
tense anticipation of what might come. 

Holly then whispered that she wanted to 
move to someplace more private. When I 
said that all the rooms were taken . she took 
this as a cue to make the best of our pres- 
ent situation. She told me to sit on the 
counter, which 1 did. Then she took down 
my coveralls and slowly moved her body 
up between my legs, licking every inch of 
the way up. She then took the head of my 
cock into her mouth and moved down the 
length of my shaft. Her mouth was like mol- 
ten butter as she slowly sucked me to the 
most intense orgasm of my life— right 
there, beside the kitchen sink, with over 100 
people downstairs! 

Since my only orgasms before this had 
come via my hand, this kinky situation really 
made me come in quarts. Being scared 
that our pleasant situation would be dis- 
covered by some other fraternity brother. I 
decided to move her to the only private 
place in the house— a closet adjoining the 
kitchen, leading to the garage. Although I 
had never been in this situation before. I 
knew just what to do. I slowly began to 
unbutton her blouse, and simultaneously 
sucked and bit her left nipple while unzip- 
ping her pants. In moments we were both 
naked.— Name and adress withheld 





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i»i:\ v uio»si: 

i i:i:i>:ca< i: 

Uncle! Uncle! 

Being a native Canadian (from Toronto). I 
can really relate to Walter Stewart's article. 
"Say Uncle! The American Colonization of 
Canada" (June. 1978). 

It is indeed a shame that a Canadian 
company can't deal with whom it wants 
where il wants because its American own- 
ers say no. It is high time that both the 
American government and American in- 
dustry woke up and realized that Canada is 
a country— and not the fifty-first state. 

Canada can place a large amount of the 
blame on herself. She has not exactly stood 
up for her rights. A lot of Canadians are 
becoming aware of the situation, and there 
is an ever-growing mistrust of American 
dominance in their economy. 

It has been said that America will always 
stand by and support her friend to the 
north. Actually, the United States may have 
turned into Canada's biggest enemy and 
weakened her to the point of no return, — 
BG.. Pittsburgh, Pa. 

My reaction to Walter Stewart's article is 
"Uncle, uncle, uncle." We give; you win. As 
the saying goes. Walter. "If you can't beat 
'em. join 'em." So I have taken it on myself to 
plead our case to the Americans. Take us, 
please. You can have what you want, but let 
us be part of America. English Canada 
tried to join Quebec, but they didn't want 
us. We have nowhere else to turn. 

We have immense naiural resources, 
good hockey players, and the better half of 
that Studio 54 phenomenon. Margaret 
Trudeau. (At least he was still a part of us 
the last time I heard, and. yes. he really 
does wear a fresh rose in his lapel.) 

Of course, there are drawbacks. You 
would have a new minority to contend 
with — a 10 percent minority group at that. 
Just think. Macy's would have to hire a 
white, a black, a Spanish-American, and a 
Canadian. But then magazines like yours. 
which champion the underdog, would have 
something new to make Americans feel 
guilty about. And we all know that Ameri- 
cans like to feel guilty 

And I say to every guilt-ridden American, 
trust in your guilt regarding your exploita- 
tion of Canada; force your government to 
send in troops and conquer us. For we feel 
like a dog that is kept in the yard for the 
children to play with but is never allowed in 
the house. 

Let us in the house. We will not chew the 
furniture or pee on the rug. Our hair doesn't 
shed. We might grasp how to sit in a chair. 
read Mark Twain, spell colour as color. In 
time, we could figure out your electoral sys- 

tem and be given the right to vote. We could 
even run for the Senate. Congress, or what- 
ever. Maybe one of us could become presi- 
dent one day; we have log cabins here. too. 

Hell, we even know who Andy Warhol is. 
And we know how you think, because we 
see all your movies here. In fact, they are 
the only movies we do see. Don't misun- 
derstand. We do have our own film industry, 
but we let only the Americans play the lead 

I read today that the Canadian govern- 
ment decided to let foreigners (to think that 
the governmeni would label Americans as 
foreigners; forgive them), such as Chase 
Manhattan. Citicorp, etc.. run 15 percent of 
our banking business. I say. Why not 100 
percent? What is good enough for America 
is good enough for me. If America took us 
■over, we might even be able to compete 
with you, At least let us compete with you. 

Don't you see. Americans? You are let- 
ting your large corporations take what is the 
right oi every American to have — a piece of 
Canada. Bite into it; we taste good. Come 
this fall and think of us as Thanksgiving 
dinner, yours, waiting for your arrival.— 
Spencer Stevenson, Toronto, Canada 

"Say Uncle: The American Colonization of 
Canada" benefits neither the Canadians 
nor the Americans. It was written by an 
overzealous Canadian nationalist. Walter 
Stewart is attempting to turn Canadian 
(and American) public opinion in the wrong 
direction. The period from the mid to late 
sixties produced a very nationalistic 
Canada. Anti-American sentiment ran 
high, for the Canadian economy was 
thriving — and so was the Vietnam War. 
However, the Arab oil embargo came 
along, and so did North America's biggest 
financial downturn since 1929. Canada 
soon realized that its economy wasn't one 
of East and West, but of North and South. 
The Americans didn't look so bad after all. 

Why does the world contain so many na- 
tions, nations with neighbors alike in such 
respects as language, location, general 
culture, economic status, and politics 7 The 
strongest example, of course, is the United 
States and Canada. What am I suggest- 
ing? A U.S. annexation of Canada, exclud- 
ing Quebec. The immediate economy of 
both nations would improve, benefiting not 
only us but also the entire free world. How- 
ever, this idea must first be sold to both the 
Canadians and the Americans. 

The plan would provide, six new states; 
Alberta. British Columbia. Manitoba, New 
Canada (New Brunswick. Newfoundland, 
Nova Scotia, and -Prince Edward Island). 

Ontario, and Saskatchewan. The Yukon 
and Northwest territories would be an- 
nexed by Alaska. 

The annexation would add 17.021.000 
{1977 estimate) to the United States' popu- 
lation and 3,256.949 square miles to our 
nation's area. This union would present a 
more formidable Unrteci States to the Soviet 
Union. Quebec would have the indepen- 
dence tor which it incessantly asks. 

Duplication of governmental respon- 
sibilities would be eliminated, thus reduc- 
ing federal waste anc soenc ng per capita. 
This would result in a stronger and more 
stable economy. 

A consolidation of the United States and 
English Canada would economically bene- 
fit both nations, produce six new states, 
humble the Soviets. 
please- Quebec, cut 
governme.nt waste, 
and possibly sel the 
stage for a number of 
other nations uniting 
as one. — Lance 
Ruby, Phoenix, Ariz. 

Winder's article 
"Yuck! The Great 
American Ham- 
burger" (July 1978) 
very interesting. As a 
former employee of 
one of those fast-food 
burger joints, I never 
dreamed that anyone 
could come as close 
to the truth as Mr. 
Wieder did in expos- 
t ing this public-health 

The customer 
never knows just what 
he'll find when he 
bites into one of these 
burgers: hair saliva, 
dirt, dandruff, or just 
about anything else 
the crew people have 
on their persons 
when they start their 
shift. Nor are the 
meat managers and 
supervisors without guilt. Frequently, when 
the freezer containing the frozen patties 
thaws and the meat starts to change color, 
rather than cal ng a sslor store or the sup- 
ply company for fresh meat, the supervisor 
simply orders the spoiled meat refrozen 
and sold to the public. 

Rolls are delivered every other day from a 
local bakery. If the manager, for whatever 
reasons, feels that it will be a "heavy day," 
he will double the order. The rolls are then 
stored wherever we can find room — under 
the cash register, in back rooms, outside 
the back door. And every bun must be 
used, even if it's the lasl bun on a rack laid 
to waste by birds, rats, or insects. 

The "fresh" lettuce and tomato used to' 
make, it your way are anything but fresh. 


and the condiments sit for hours without 
■ Mr Wieder's article was right on the 
mark.— J.G.F.. Saddle Brook. N. J. 

Why does Bob Wieder lament the failure of 
some of the most prestigious American 
food chains to produce a good hamburger 
today? He should realize that we are receiv- 
ing high-quality, healthy, nutritional pap: 
served hot off the infrared heating lamps. 
Bob did not even mention such well- 
known chains as Burger Chef. Wendy's, 
and Taco Bell, which also specialize in 
good grease- 
It is time to rebel, and the first step is to 
leave your table dirty at your local 
McDonald's, for. remember. "We do It all for 

ence and found it rather refreshing to hear 
a Christian make sex sound normal without 
being insincere to his faith. 

But I cannot reconcile myself to Rever- 
end Varah's response to the last question. I 
don't understand how anyone who recog- 
nizes the beauty of the human body could 
be blind to the gruesomeness of abortion. 

It is absurd to say that a fetus is not a 
living thing because we do not have reli- 
gious ceremonies over stillbirths. If an 
abortion shows anything, it is the inhuman- 
ity of which we are capable. If you give a 
"fetus a chance, in no time at all it will don a 
playsuit. hop on a tricycle, and ride into the 
sunset. — DM.. Pittsburgh. Pa. 

you." Once you can break that barrier, you 
will realize that the great American ham- 
burger is not dead; it just gets served that 
way. — S. Martin, Olympia, Wash. 

Robert S. Wiede' s vsk though the gas- 
trointestinal mine field we refer to as fast- 
food service was thoroughly impressive Ocean Shores, Wash 
except that he neglected the most widely 
feared hazard of all. White Castle. The only 
conclusion I could draw was that he lacked 
the intestinai fort-jcie tcb'ave its perils. — 
J.S.. Westbury N.Y. 

ar engirna" : c person 
who embraces reli- 
gion and the Chris- 
tian Bible on one 
hand and speaks out 
against these holy 
works on the other 

I, too. loathe all 
tyranny but do be- 
lieve that a moral 
breakdown of a coun- 
try can lead to things 
worse than tyranny. 
When a society be- 
comes so callous 
and tolerant that it al- 
lows sexual perver- 
sions to go to such 
extremes without call- 
ing a halt to such ac- 
tivities, we are then 
heading down the 
road to Sodom and 

It is one thing to 
enjoy the pleasures 
of sex. but strictly 
another to engage in 
so-called sex acts 
that are forbidden in 
the Bible. 

This priest who 
would condone pros- 
titution merely be- 
cause it is lawful in 
some places takes a 
strange attitude. The Bible absolutely for- 
bids fornication, that is. intercourse be- 
tween unmarried persons. So how can this 
man of God condone such acts? This man 
has some strange ideas, and they don't 
seem to me to be commensurate with the 
ideals implicit in his church post. — L.R.M.. 

s very r 

Varah inierview 

I enioyed the P^nthous^ interview with the 
Reverend Chad Varah (July 1978). At this 
point in my life. I have- no religious prefer- 

pressed by your fine 
fth the Reverend Chad Varah. 
About six months ago I tried to kill myself 
because of an unsuccessful relationship 
with a young lady. Fortunately, my suicide 
attempt was no more successful than the 
relationship. Since then. I have been gain- 
ing so much insight through articles such 
as the Varah interview that I have begun to 


: Mil t> ' *> = 

sharp e rQHSPum-wirwo^B:^- 

understand God in a totally new way. I 
really agree completely with Fattier Varan 
when he says that the traditional church in 
this country has stopped growing with the 

The earliest experience I had with 
church was when I was a child and my 
mother would send me to Sunday school. I 
couldn't sland the stufty. windowless class- 
rooms, the fat crayons, or the little brown 
suit I was made to wear. I don't think that 
fellowship can be restricted to one day a 
week around any select group of people. I 
feel that it is very important !o my freedom 
as an individual lo learn from all sources 
open to me. 

Lei's all try to show a little more love and 
understanding. Let's be more open to 
others and learn from 
life and from God. I 
hope thai you all can 
see where I'm com- 
ing from. Thank you. 
Penthouse, not only 
for the excellent 
Varah interview but 
also for the countless 
other articles and 
knowledge you bring 
us. — $GOtt Moore, 
Santa Rosa, Calif. 

War without end 

We would appreciate 
it very much if you 
would pass this in- 
formation along to 
your readers. CCCO. 
An Agency for Mili- 
tary and Draft Coun- 
seling, has devel- 
oped the "Guide for 
<he AWOL Gl." a 
pamphlet intended to 
help military service 
members with very 
practicai information 
concerning AWOL 
charges. Despife five 
years of volun- 
teerism, it's clear that 
plenty is wrong with 
the military, and this 
pamphlet is badly 
needed by many ol 
your readers. Witness, in particular, that the 
AWOL rate is the highest in the history of the 
navy, that one out of every five marines is 
AWOL. and that there is a 40 percent drop- 
out rate among service members before 
they complete their initial enlistment. 

"Guide for the AWOL Gl" is available for 
twenty-five cents (to cover postage and 
handling) from: CCCO. 2016 Walnut Street. 
Suite 300. Philadelphia. Pa.. 19103. —Jon 
Landau. Philadelphia. Pa. 

I have just read the June 1978 Penthouse. 
and I would like to say that I really enjoy your 
magazine and always read the "Vietnam 
Veterans Adviser." As a vet. I would like 
to thank the staff at Penthouse for being so 
frank about the Vietnam vets. In the June 


column the subiec: was svaight from the 
hip. It was so refreshing to read a positive 
article about us vets, instead of one about a 
'vet who goes off the deep end. It seems 
that almost everywhere I look these days. I 
read or hear about another vet in trouble. 
How about the rest of us who served and 
are now trying to become vital, functioning 
members of society again? I know that I 
speak for many other Vietnam veterans in 
saying that I would like to thank you for 
taking a stand and speaking out for US. — 
Sob Green. Fresno. Calil. 

i would much rather be writing to your 

"Forum" section about my sexual fantasies 
come to life than to "Feedback." Perhaps 
no one can appreciate more than I how 

First we invented it 

Now we've made it 

more precise than ever. 

ten months of combat. Once you've been 
subjecied to combat, you realize that the 
annoyances of any other occupation pale 
beside- the enormity of the soldier's day- 
to-day struggle for survival. A soldier's 
readjustment is tenuous at best when he 
returns to civilian life. This is understood. 
and the vet was met with tolerance and 
understanding by the people at home after 
Korea and World War II. and eventually he 
blended back into a semblance of normal 
life, The reason why Vietnam vets have their 
present struggle is obvious: we embody a 
collective guilt feeling America suffers from 
because of its involvement in a malicious 
war of attrition that the bulk of American 
society wants to forget — and rightly so. but 
not at the expense of those who saw it as 
their duty to obey the 
U.S. government. 

JVC innovated the use of quartz 

crystals to control the accuracy 

of turntable speed in 1974. We've 

been improving our designs ever 

since. Now there's a Super Servo 

Frequency Generator, factory-set, 

to detect even the most minute 

variations in platter speed. Plus 

all the advantages of Direct Drive. 

And an exclusive new tone arm 

that holds the pickup cartridge 

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the most complex record grooves 

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like digital readout, electronic 

■change systems, and your 

choice of manual, semi-automatic 

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are why you should see 

JVC Quartz-Locked Turntables 

at your dealer soon. 


We build in what the others 

. for £ 
change either in the j 
system that caused 
us to be unemployed 
or in society 's'attitude 
toward the dictatorial 
government agen- 
cies that run the 
people rather than 
carrying out their 
wishes. Vets seem to 
have to become more 
and more disil- ] 
lusioned about the 
chances they have in 
this money-oriented 
system and see no 
hope of changing it, 
We had been made 
fools of for our patrio- 
tism; the evader and 
resister have been 
given amnesty and 
lauded. Heaven help 
America if it ever 
needs us, I, for one. 
would be more in- 
clined to fight for the 
other side and hope 
for a change. Is it so 
hard to understand 
why a Vietnam vet 
to drugs and 


' He 


muchsexua: freedom really means. I am an 
inmate of the Texas Department of Correc- 
tions, doing two twenty-five-year sentences 
for aggravated robbery, and. needless to 
say. my sexual life consists of vague 
memories, self-stimulation, and. of course, 
fantasy. I am. however, fortunate to have a 
fiancee who brings me much love and 
peace through her letters. 

My main intention in writing lo "Feed- 
back" is to compliment you on the "Vietnam 
Veterans Adviser" of March 1978 and to 
thank you for bringing to light the inability of 
more than a half-million U.S. Vietnam vets 
to find employment. 

I was in Vietnam from 1968 to 1969, re- 
ceived two Bronze Stars for valor, and be- 
came an infantry platoon sergeant during 

taught violence, and 
the drugs provide no escape Maybe soci- 
ety needs to beshaken, and if that is happen- 
ing. I say good; shake it to its roots. Make the 
mention of Vietnam scare the hell out of it. 
It seems that the only way to alleviate 
these problems is through federal interven- 
tion. I propose that the federal government 
implement a program that would remove 
now-incarcerated Vietnam vets from state 
facilities (without lessening of sentences) 
and place them in federal facilities, where 
they could take advantage of some of the 
benefits due them. The Vietnam vet is as 
incongruous in prison as he was on the 
street. His mean educational level and IQ 
are higher than average, and I believe that 
his experiences are such that, were he 
placed in a self-help situation, a turnabout 



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in allilude couid be effected. 

A federally funded program for unem- 
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cents fo r your magazine. 

No. I'm not aboul to analyze why 1 wc 
Day greatly n'lstec prices for a periodic 
know why and : l ain I the pictures; it is 

the same attention? — Norman MacDonald, 

Texas Department of Corrections 

While we res[. 

eel. your " anarchist - 

privilege" of a 

•Sieming iron-, an' "Pr 

Thus spake Tosches 

Year" compel 

Congratulations to Nick Tosches for "Thus 

our readers er 

Spake Rhoda" ("Scenes," July 1978). He 

choice withou 

in any way "elevatinc 

has discovered, during his "travels 

"a dominant 

throughout the world and pahs of Arkan- 

aboul -temim 

e nature" and the " 

sas," what we Arkansans have known all 

aspects of w 

omen' are, we fee 

"sexist than 

the contest you c 

itself. With clean water, fresh air. and some 

Competition i 

a healthy part of 

nature— both 

mate and female. 

v v.- ;: , -.=-, Pr - --^- a n,,,,- .^ 1PI1 

t was recently 

Tosches has more time to spend here, I'm 

the old water 

sure that he n a'so discover there's more to 

Penthouse. \ a 

this state than "foot soldiers with capped 

male, which is 

teeth."— Tommy Mumert, Mountain View, Ark. 

didn't refuse 

f Pent 

/ the h 

continues to improve indicate '.'cry strongly 
that people enjoy our combination of pic- 
tures arid arricies. Obviously, neither Pent- 
house I. Penthouse II, nor Penthouse III 
would sell so well as Penthouse sells right 
now. Thus your idea is obviously not "con- 
structive" at all — either for us or for our 
readers, i 

r s 





: <-w 







Warning: The Surgeon General Has Determined 
That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health. 

• Are there any voyeur 

wives out there who enjoy watching 

their husbands make love 

to other women? That I'd like 

to hear about! 9 




You have said that a tenth of 
your mail deals with men who 
enjoy watching other men 
make love to their wives. I won- 
der if you ever get letters from 
these "wives" and hear their 

For years my husband has 
been trying to make me dress 
in sexy clothes. My dresses 
always had to be shorter than 
the current style. My stockings 
had to be black and very sheer, 
my shoes had to be very high, 
dress tops had to be cut low to 
show a lot of cleavage, all my 
£-} 'bf'as and panties had to be 
*btack and of lace, panty hose 
were forbidden, and see- 
through clothes were a must. 
To be honest, when I dressed 
and went out with him. I felt like 
a call girl on display. Wherever 
we went, men always turned 
and looked, and he (I'll call him 
Jack) loved every moment of this coy femme-fatale performance. 

Other men were always around the house, and we gave frequent 
parties. I first noticed the trend one evening more than two years 
ago, when a friend who was over made a pass at me while my 
husband was ou! of the room. He had kissed me several times, and 
he ha.d his hand inside my blouse, feeling my breast, as Jack 
returned. Jack saw what was happening — and stepped back out 
of the doorway and watched. Things went no further. After the 
friend left. Jack mentioned that he had seen what had happened 
and was not furious but pleased. He told me it was a compliment to 
me — that our guest had admired my beauty so much that he 
couldn't help himself. 

A month later we gave a pool party. I had gone into the house to 
get more ice from the freezer when one of the guests followed me 
inside and started to get overly friendly As he was kissing me, I 
noticed my husband watching through a side window. I allowed the 
man to pull my bikini top down and caress and suck my breast. I 

U the h 

fully expected Jack to come 
charging in, but he continued 
to watch. I wanted to see just 
how far he would allow me to 
go before he stopped us. My 
friend then lowered the bottom 
of the suit and began to caress 
my vagina and slowly inserted 
his finger deep inside me. I 
opened my legs wide and al- 
lowed him full freedom to do 
whatever he wanted. He low- 
ered his trunks, but before he 
could penetrate me, someone 
started yelling for the ice. My 
husband never mentioned the 

During the following week I 
began to notice footprints in 
the flower beds just outside our 
bedroom window, and upon 
checking I found dirt on Jack's 
shoes. I realized that he had 
been watching me kom out- 
side the window. 

One night the same man who 

had made a pass at me before 

We were all drinking and having a ball, and 

was again a. 

Jack suddenly announced that we were out of scotch and that he 
would dash to the store and gel a bottle. I knew this was a lie but 
said nothing. He left in the car, but he evidently stopped down the 
block and walked back. My friend had begun to get fresh already. 
and I suggested that we go to the bedroom, where we would be 
more comfortable. We sat on the edge of the bed and kissed and 
caressed each other for about five minutes until I excused myself 
"to go to the bathroom." Instead. I went out the patio door, walked 
to the corner of the house, and peeked around. There, in the 
shadows, was Jack, looking through the bedroom window. Seeing 
this, I was determined to force his hand. 

I went back to the bedroom and allowed the man to remove my, 
slip, stalling for time as he progressed from there. Soon the bra was 
gone, and he sucked my breasts for a long time. Next the panties 
went, and he was getting out of control. I thought surely Jack would 
come running in by then. My friend knelt down between my legs 

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same way we make it. 
Slowly and leisurely. 


and started kissing and sucking me. I 

begged him to continue and never stop — ■ 
he was driving me crazy, and I realized that 
! wouldn't be able to control myself much 
longer. He got up and was ready to have 
intercourse, but ! hadn't planned on going 
this far and had to stall for more time. Since 
I couldn't dissuade him, I took hold of his 
penis and slowly began to kiss it and run 
my tongue around it. He became really ex- 
cited and put his hand on my head to force 
his penis into my mouth. I tried to pull away, 
but he held my head and began to pump 
back and forth. Suddenly, he erupted and 
shot a huge load of semen all over me. I 
used this as an excuse to go to the bath- 
room and clean up. I stalled for a long time, 
until I heard Jack's caroome back. Again, 
no mention was ever made of this incident. 
During the Christmas season, my hus- 
band has a special game that we play 
when we give a party. He puts a bunch of 
mistletoe above the entrance to the rec 
room and makes up a special punch bowl 
that he calls the "Bowl of Courage." It's 
straight booze, and after a few dips into it 
you get all kinds of courage. As a couple 
meet under the mistletoe, they have to kiss, 
but the trick is not to be the one to break the 
kiss. Anything goes, and the one who 
breaks away must chugalug a cup of 
punch. We had seven couples over that 
night, and by mid-evening I had already 
broken away from two men. 

All the crowd watches, and they cheer 
the winner, boo the loser,, and chant as you 
drink another cup. I was feeling no pain, 
and a stranger who had come with another 
couple caught me under the mistletoe. He 
began kissing me very passionately; so I 
teased him by running my tongue in and 
out of his mouth. Everyone was cheering to 
see who would stop. He put his hand inside 
my low-cut cocktail dress and was feeling 
my breast. The crowd was going wild, and I 
saw my husband clapping and yelling for 
him to keep going. In an effort to make him 
pull away, ! reached down and pulled his 
zipper down. The crowd roared as he bent 
me slightly backward and caught the hem 
of my dress and started pulling it up. I al- 
most pulled away, but I saw the gleam in 
Jack's eye and realized I had to keep go- 
ing. My dress continued up until it was 
around my waist, fully exposing my stock- 
ing tops and panties. We stiil didn't break, 
and I didn't know what to do to try to stop 
him. His hand pulled my panties all the way 
down to my feet, fully exposing my vagina 
to everyone there. 

Suddenly, there wasn't as much cheer- 
ing, and I realized things had gotten out of 
hand. I tried to pull away, but he had a really 
tight grip on me. Before I finally got free, he 
managed to get his finger in me. im- 
mediately after that, all of the other wives 
went home, as did tour of the men. My 
husband and three of the other men stayed 
around. Jack kissed me, told me I was 
wonderful, and that he loved every minute 
of "your act." / was furious and decided to 
show him once and for all. 
I deliberately positioned myself under 

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the mistletoe again, and one of the men 
began to kiss me. When he reached be- 
hind me and unzipped my dress, t let it fall 
to the floor and stepped out of it. The slip 
went next, and I kicked it across the room. I 
broke the kiss and went to the punch bowl, 
not bothering to dress. After another drink, 
another man got me — he removed my bra. 
and again my panties went down and were 
kicked across the room. There I stood in my 
black garter belt and sheer nylons, totally 
nude lor the four men to view. The three 
men took turns kissing and caressing me. 
Jack took the mistletoe down and pinned 
it on the back of the couch. Soon one of the 
men who had had a lot to drink got me on 
the couch, in an effort to make him break 
away, I unzipped his pants and took out his 
hard cock. My husband and the other two 
men were cheering us on as he pushed me 
back on the couch and moved between my 
legs. I opened my legs wide and allowed 
him to enter me. We both began a violet ' 
lovemaking session, and he reached 
quick climax, When he got up, quickly zip- 
ping up his pants, I just lay there with my 
legs spread. One of the other men looked 
at Jack, then quickly lowered himself on 
me. He lasted about ten minutes. Finally, 
the third man got on me. He was so loaded 
that he couldn't climax, and he continued 
to screw me for what seemed like an hour. 
Jack just sat there and watched the en- 
tire thing. I finally looked over at him and 
said. "This is what you wanted me to do all 
along, wasn't it?" He nodded and smiled. 
We lost some friends that night, some of 
whom have not spoken to me since. The 
three men that I had intercourse with have 
called me on numerous occasions, and I 
have had sex with them frequently during 
the past two years. I don't know whether 
Jack still watches or not, and I really don't 
care. Today I enjoy a much more liberated 
sex life and freely go to bed with anyone 
who desires me. Last week, on a long motor 
trip, I spent three nights in a motel with a 
different man each night and loved every 
minute of it. My husband never complains, 
and neither do I. — E.M. 

I asked a couple of friends of mine, boih 
psychologists, what they thought of this i 
"wife watching" phenomenon. The more ; 
conservative psychologist suggested that 
men who like watching their spouses in 
intercourse with other men actually want to 
reduce their wives to mere sex objects. 
"These husbands," commented the psy- 
chologist, "want to think of their wives as 
nothing more than a good piece of ass. 
Seeing them have sex with another man 
confirms this idea for them." 

The other psychologist disagreed with 
my more conservative friend. "Such men 
simply need to reassure themselves that 
their wives are attractive," he said. "Many 
such voyeurs actually want to have sex with 
their wives after watching them in inter- 
course with another man. It's as though 
they want to say, 'Look, aren't 1 the better 
lover?' " 

I don't know which theory to believe. Let's 




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just say it depends on the couple. All i know 
is that there must be a lot of tired American 
housewives— and I'm not referring to wax- 
ing the kitchen floor. What I do want to know, 
however, is whether there are any voyeur 
wives who enjoy watching their husbands 
screw other women. That I'd like to hear 


Your May letter of the monlh came from a 
man who enjoyed seeing his wife fucking 
other men, and H prompted me to write and 
present a simitar situation but from a differ- 
ent perspective. 

1 love my wife, and I know my wife loves 
me. Every day of our marriage is better than 
the tast. We both enjoy fucking each other 
and others. Fucking for each of us is a 
physical pleasure that is only enhanced 
when fucking a different or outside party. To 
deny each other this pleasure in the name 
of love is really nota very healthy attitude to 
have and would say little for our mutual iove. 
We believe love encourages a person to be 
natural and to grow as a human being. (I 
might mention that this belief of ours 
applies to all aspects of life and not just to 

I want to tell you and you' readers that my 
wife and I arrived at this attitude through 
good communication. We married in our 
late twenties and had a very intense one- 
to-one relationship for over a year. In time, 
though, being human, we each began to 

find again that other people are sexually 
appealing. We always talked. about this to 
each other; it came out in the form of a 
game in which we would each try and pick 
put people we thought the other found at- 
tractive. Gradually, we came to understand 
what we each found to be appealing. We 
also used to fantasize about fucking this or 
that person as we fucked each other. We 
both agreed that should our fantasies be- 
come reality, we would proceed together as 
a team, rather than separately In this way 
our sexual growth could occur without 

0:ir firs: experience came with my wife's 
girl friend, a vacationing teacher from 
another state. She stayed with us for two 
months. She had been in a- lot of our fan- 
tasies, and my wife fully knew how much she 
attracted me. She was tall and big- 
breasted, with large, muscular legs and a 
shapely ass —physically just like my wife. 

One evening our conversation got 
around to massage, and it wasn't long be- 
fore the three of us broke out our oils, 
spread out a large sheet in front of the fire- 
place, and look off our clothes. I got to go 
first. The two ladies massaged me from 
head to toe with an unusual amount of oil, 
and a gradual buildup of spicy conversa- 
tion had my cock semi-hard by the time I 
rolled over on my back. A lot more oil and a 
lot less time was spent on my chest and 
legs. Both women were trying to entice my 
throbbing cock to a full erection without 

"How many times have I told you 
to stay in the closet until I get the kids off to school?" 

touching it. When it came, the women joked 
and laughed, staked claims to various 
parts of the cock and balls, and gradually 
began to put the oil on. Eventually their 
mouths replaced their hands; it was 

Before the evening was out, we had run 
the full gamut of sexual experiences one 
man can have with two women. My wife had . 
sucked her first pussy with and without my 
cock in it; I got to fuck one and eat the other 
at one time, switch their pout: ns and do it 
again. Needless to say it was great, and 
our new intimate friend moved out of the 
guest room and in with us for the rest of her 
visit After she left, our sex life went from 
great to magnificent for several weeks. 

For the next six months, via our massage 
routine, we discovered several women 
open to having .threeways but no men-at 
least, not among our friends. Fortunately. 
we live in a city full of gay and mixed bars. 
We went to a few, looking to find a male to 
bring home, but all we found were gay men. 
We decided to go to a regular place that 
had dancing, split up there, and see what 
happened: any male in a mixed bar that 
approached my wife would be suspected 
as bisexual and a potential swinger. 

I was realty nervous, but I hung in there, 
asking males that fit my wife's taste; tall, 
slender, and young. Every time I got a tum- 
ble. I responded positively, stating that I 
had a partner with me who was also avail- 
able. I got turned down twice, but the third 
time my newfound male friend asked to be 
introduced. The place was so packed that I 
had not seen my wife since we arrived. 
When I finally found her, she was talking to 
a man, and when I introduced Dale, she 
introduced Michael. After a brief get- 
acquainted conversation, we all left for our 
place. Dale sat in the back while my wife 
stroked the bulge in his pants, and Michael 
stroked the one in mine. 

As soon as we arrived home, we lit the 
fireplace, fixed some drinks, and quickly 
moved the conversation to the subject of oil 
massages. Everyone was receptive; so we 
spread out the sheet on the floor, and 
quickly disrobed. I was really nervous, but 
also very excited— I had never engaged in 
sex with a male before. My wife, who was 
absolutely ecstatic at the prospect of three 
men, was the first to be massaged and, in a 
way, the last. Our two male friends were 
actually trying to massage her. I decided to 
break the ice. With lots of oil and lots of 
compliments about her body coming from 
me, i gradually worked the cheeks of her 
ass farther and farther apart, exposing the 
pink button of her ass hole. Finally, t 
pressed my mouth to it and began kissing 
and sucking it. Dale and Michael got the 
idea. She cooed at my activity, arched hef 
back, raising her hips up off the sheet; a 
definite open invitation. After a minute or 
two, when I raised my head up for some air, 
I saw her sucking Dale's cock and Michael 
pouring and rubbing oil on Dale's body 

I was shivering with excitement when I 
got up to get the Vaseline. My cock was 
dripping from my own juices. I coaxed my 





tjl ome say that this is an age ot science and that science is out of 

^l control. Not so on either count. Science is not out of control, for 
" science consists merely of the laws of nalure and the community 
that seeks to find them out. People like my friend Professor van deKamp, 
for instance. His lifework has consisted of mapping the nearby stars and 
looking for wiggly ones that might have planets; he thinks he's found a 
planet going around another star. Generations of Swarthmore students 
benefited from his relaxed and playful teaching of astronomy. Now retired, 
he still likes to play Gershwin and show his Chaplin films, A typical 
scientist; if his findings ever become useful, he'll be surprised; he does not 
expect to visit his planet personally 

The guys who send rockets into space are not considered scientists by 
therea/ scientists. They're technologists. But like your local druggist, who 
doesn't mind being mistaken for a doctor, they like to be called scientists 
and benefit from the blur in the public mind. And they are out of control. 

But we all use scientific principles, whether or not we realize it. We 
use the laws of gravitation every walking moment of our lives, and the only 
"technological" difference between walking and calculating an orbit is that 
you can't do the latter by feel. Yet. 

Now, technology sounds like an /f . a unified thing, something for there to 
t^ a Massachusetts Institute ot. But it's not a single thing or a connected 
whole. Ifwecalled it simply tech knowledge, we'd see it for what it is: a bag 
of tricks. Some of the thcks are codified into principles, and some are 
related to formal science; some aren't. But technologists benefit from their 
self-importance. You can fry an egg without a chef's hat — the hat only 
makes it seem official. The word technology does the same, makes 
something seem an impressive se- 
cret. In the darker sense, technology 
is whatever you're not supposed to 

"Looks like you got a problem," 
drawls the mechanic. "Your skeezix 
was about to go, and that would have 
bent your top-hose ratchet around 
the transmission coil. It's a lucky 
thing I caught it in time." The ques- 
tion is not whether he's lying but 
whether you'll ever get to Disney 
World with the kids screaming. You 
lose. Pay fast and go. 

And to all too great an extent, the 
rest of technology is like that. 
Technicality — complicated evidence 
to sift and hard alternatives to 
compare — is eternal. 

More and more, political issues 
are technical. The foremost of the 
techno-political issues are. of 
course, the atomic questions, which 
must finally be "opened" to the pub- 
lic. The Red scares and trials of the 

late forties and early fifties neatly silenced opposition to atomic develop- 
ment, and it now appears quite likely that the rest of humanity's tenure on 
earth will be preoccupied with dodging the plutonium we've created since 
then: both the great rockets, tall and horny in their silos, and the atom 
garbage, which will seethe maliciously for the conceivable future. 

So we face the politics of disarmament and arms control, with their 
calculus of surprise and regret measured in millions of lives. We face the 
advocates of nuclear power, who say the plants won't blow up and nobody 
can steal bomb parts. We face the politics of nuclear-waste disposal and 
reprocessing (and the United States has volunteered to take in other 
nations' atom laundry). We face the politics of atomic terrorism — where 
will the atomic bomblets already in private hands appear first? We face the 
politics of atomic and chemical pollution, with their fiction of "safe 
levels"— meaning roughly the amounts of death, disease, and birth defect 
considered acceptable. (The New Jersey legislator recently quoted as 
saying "There's no reason we can't have both jobs and cancer" may have 
been more candid than was his intent.) 

We face the politics of NASA and space colonies and microwave energy 
from satellites. We tacethe politics of freeways, of the new mathematics, 
of television violence, of television cables, of the next economic solutions; 
of dam building and of endangered species; of women's rights and Gay 
Lib (are^certain things hereditary?); of supertankers, the ozone layer, 
recombinant DNA, psycho- control, computers, the poisoning of the seas, 
smartness pills, whatever. 

There are many spokesmen, well-funded, to speak upon these 
issues— but only with their facts. And the technical words they use are like 
those of the auto mechanic. Doesn't 
"counterforce" sound like fending off 
a bully rather than preparing a ther- 
monuclear surprise attack? Doesn't 
"energy development" nowadays 
sound better than "atomic power." 
and doesn't "the nuclear disposal 
problem" sound like something just 
waiting for the simple solution that 
we haven't thought of yet? (Compare 
the death problem.) 

Though these issues become in- 
creasingly technical, their intercon- 
nection is deep and ever unpredicta- 
ble. We didn't expect power from 
space, but now the space program 
may give us low-cost electricity in 
vast quantities. We didn't think the 
evolutionary process was swift; now 
insects seem to be evolving faster 
than chemists can invent new insec- 
ticides. The moving continents (no- 
ticed only recently) might provide a 
trap-door, beneath the sinking edge, 
for atomic and chemical wastes. 


But most people are afraid of 
technicality. Where does that put 
us as the new questions and alter- 
natives thrash across our world? 
We need people more willing to ask 
questions, and we need people 
more willing to answer them. We 
need a new kind of person, the Ex- 
plainer, who can fairly translate 
theories and alternatives to who- 
ever needs the translation. But ev- 
erybody is so sheepish. 

This is due in part to the edu- 
cational system. Unfortunately, 
things are not set up to teach as 
much as possible to as many as 
possible. Rather, our system of 
scientitic education is set up tor the 
encouraging of the few and the 
disappointment and anesthesia of 
the many. High-school science is a 
joke, but also one In which many 
students see no point. The intro- 
ductory courses at our colleges are 
set up to "get rid of the riffraff." to 
drum out those who are not well 
organized, fanatical, and obedient. 
Teaching the beginners is both re- 
ward and punishment to young 
professors on the rise, who try to 
show how rigorous, even unkind, 
thaycan be in their teaching. To the 
few who succeed, the science 
course is an exhilarating experi- 
ence; to the many who fail, or feel 
that they fail, it is a searing disap- 
pointment from which to turn away 
in pain and self- anger. And so we 
have a nation where a few under- 
stand a lot and the rest very little of 
technology and science. 

The time may be 'ripe tor a 
change. There are people every- 
where who want to understand 
things, There are more good Ex- 
plainers than ever before. There 
are even new media — display sys- 
tems under computerized con- 
trol — that promise explorable 
worlds in full color and without in- 
trusive supervision r.nd these in- 
novations you will ho able to enpy 
on your home cc^piiter within a 
couple of years 

But the principles of oresenta- 
tion. even on computer screens, 
are the same as '.ley always were 
in magazines and movies. Mane it 
dear, make it simple, give it punch 
and color, and make the words 
come alive. This the mere techno- 
crats will never understand. 




■■V here in the house do 
^^^fcTyou put a sign thai says 

w W "Blowjobs" or a two-foot 
neon cock that lights up in shades 
of lavender and puce? It is not a 
question you're going to find an- 
swered in the current House and 
Garden. But neon freaks and 
otherwise normal people who have 
longed to come out of the closet 
with their erotic fantasies can now 
see them spelled out in gold, blue, 
or green neon and hung in bed- 
room, den, or wherever their heart 
(or prick) desires. Whatever short 
message you want to give to the 
world, if it can be made of neon. 
Gabor Kadar can probably make it 
for you. 

"Blowing" has a primary conno- 
tation different from the usual to 
Kadar and his sixteen employees 
in their long, low, pleasantly land- 
scaped building a runway's over- 
shoot from the Van Nuys Airport, a 
few miles from Los Angeles. Ob- 
jects made of neon tubing, like the 
finesl glassware, must be blown 
individually. NeoArt. Kadar's com- 
pany, is one of the largest of its kind 
in the country. Last year it grossed 
$4 million. 

Kadar. who learned neon blow- 
ing from an artist named Bill Lynch 
m Chicago, has made personal- 
ized signs for, it seems, half the 
celebrities in California, among 
them Frank Sinatra, Cher. Raquei 
Welch. Fred Astaire, and Mel 
Brooks. While he is too discreet to 
reveal what the stars wanted their 
signs to say, you can bet they weren't 
giving directions to Catalina. 

Among his less exalted clients, 
two big sellers are "Fuck Ya?" and 
"I Eat Pussy." The question natu- 
rally arises. Why would anybody 
feel the need to have it spelled out 
in neon? Kadar shrugs philosoph- 
ically. "Look." he says, "maybe 
someone is too shy or gets laryn- 
gitis when he's nervous. All he's 
got to do is switch on the sign. 
There's no need to talk." 

He laughs. He does not look like 
a man who could be called the porn 
neon king of Southern California. 
("Erotic." he says. "Erotic neon 
king is better.") He is slim, 
medium-sized, thirty-two years 
old. has expressive brown eyes, 
and speaks fluent, if slightly over- 
precise. English. ("That is correct." 
Hungary. His parents left during 
the 1956 revolution, when he was 
eleven, and settled in Canada. 

Eventually, they came to California, 
where Kadar went to high school. 
He is a shining example of that old 
prospered by filling a need the pub- 
lic didn't know it had. 

Besides the customized signs. 
Kadar's company produces art 
neon for the home, attractive and 
amusing stylized cats and palm 
trees, rainbows complete with 
small pots of gold. They sell in 
first-rate shops across the country, 
from Blooming dale's in New York 
Cftyto Geary's in Beverly Hills. But 
it is the custom signs that Kadar 
especially enjoys working on. 

"People want their names or 
their favorite expressions or their 
obscenities." he says. "When they 
see it worked out in neon, I can't tell 
you the look on their faces, the 
pleasure. Everyone is so anony- 
mous today. When a wife orders a 

sign lor her husband. "George 
Jones, Superstar." or "George 
Jones. Great Fuck." she is getting 
something lor him that is abso- 
lutely, totally unique," An abso- 
lutely, totally unique sign from 
Kadar ranges in price from $90 to 
£140. Since neon doesn't burn out. 
and there is no maintenance, it can 
last (or as long as you do il you 
handle it with normal care. That's a 
bargain. "If anything goes wrong," 
he says, "send it back. We'll take 

Only rarely has Kadar been un- 
able to make a particular sign re- 
quested by a client. "It you can 
think it up. we can probably make 
it," he says. "As long as it is in the 
nature of neon." One of his most 
popular signs reads "Love Me or 
Fuck Me" — either phrase can be 
lighted independently, depending 
on the client s mood. Another pro- 
claims 1 Want It Now!'' with a 
checklist against what it is that's 

Then there is the woman who 
wuu'dn't give tier reouesl to Ka- 
□ars secretary but wouia taik only 
to him personally. Kadar picked up 

"I want 'Suck My Cock.' " the 
woman said, "inside a pair of big. 
red lips." 

"Very well," Kadar said, and 
wrote out the order, 

"When can tt be ready?" 

"In about three weeks." 

Each week the woman would call 
to check the progress of her sign, 
and she would talk only with Kadar. 
Finally, the sign was ready, and 
Kadar told her she could pick it up. 
Her voice dropped. She suddenly 
sounded unsure. 

"Tell me. Gabor." she said, "does 
it look classy?" 

"Madam," he told her. "there's no 
way a sign can read 'Suck My 
Cock' and look classy!" 

But while Kadar has a sense of 
humor about his erotic pieces, he 
also has a genuine passion for the 
art of neon sculpture. "Basically, no 
other medium can do what neon 
does." he says. "You can control 
light. You can make light go left, go 
right, go up and down, and you can 
use several colors in the same 

Color is achieved in neon by 

using different gases and also by 
using different coatings inside the 
lube. It isn't a subtle spectrum- 
neon comes in red. blue. gold, 
green, and orange — but Kadar 
does some interesting work with it. 
He has done an entire wall of "rain- 
bow" and a total stage environ- 
ment—back and side walls of 
neon — for Elton John. He has even 
made a neon ceiling for a Beverly 
Hills gynecologist. "It's to keep the 
patient distracted." Kadar says. 
"While the doctor is looking one 
way, she is looking another." His 
clients for business signs have in- 
cluded the Beatles. Chicago. Ta- 
vares, Ella Fitzgerald. Smoky Rob- 
inson, and Johnny Carson, 

Modestly, Kadar bemoans the 
lack of qualified people in the field. 
"It's adying art." he says. "But then 
there are a lot of openings— neon 
is coming back in a very strong 
way. Some people are tremendous 
artists." he says. "I'm not. Nor am I 
a fantastic glassblower or a de- 
signer or a salesman or a promoter. 
However. I'm able to do a little bit of 
all those things, and I think that is 
more important than being very 
good at only one." He talks seri- 
ously about opening a school for 
neon glassblowing if enough inter- 
est develops. Meanwhile, he is will- 
ing to give help or advice to anyone 
who cares to contact him. 

What got him started in putting a 
glow into tubing? While still in high 
school, he wanted to buy his girl 
friend a small sign with her name in 
neon. He discovered that it wasn't 
that simple. He had to find a 
glassblower. draw a sketch for him. 
and hunt down a transformer so 
that the sign would light. "It was a 
hassle." he says, "and it looked 
mickey mouse, but there, finally, 
was her name — Shirley — in neon. 
It turned me on." 

Shortly afterwards, he met Bill 
Lynch and apprenticed himself, 
unofficially, off and on. for several 

When he started, neon was con- 
sidered a tacky advertising medium, 
used mostly to illuminate bar fronts in 
down-at-the-heel neighborhoods. 
Now it is an art: hip. in. mod, and very 
trendy, thanks in some measure to 
ex-Hungarian Gabor Kadar. — 
Samantha Ange 


best indication not only of how suc- 
cessful but also of how important 
the genre is today. 

One by one. the good old genres 
that for decades gave order to the 
mass of movies have dropped out 
of currency and have just about 
died outright (the Western) or 
been preserved in self-parody 

J^ hat pint-sized prophet of 
our age, the kid who's 
seen Close Encounters 
half a dozen times and Star Wars 
maybe another half-dozen times 
again, is telling us something. 

I had dinner with one the other 
night, an exceptionally bright 
twelve -year- old who has probably 
gone to every science-fiction 
movie released since he grew old 
enough to bully his father into tak- 
ing him to them. He suffers total 
recall of each of them, down to the 
smallest plot incongruities. At the 
drop of a hat he will give you a 
capsule review, complete with 
technical credits and estimated 
box-office potential. You'd think 
they were teaching the show-biz 
paper Variety now as seventh- 
grade English. My friend, as I said, 
is exceptional. But his kind, his spir- 
itual brothers and sisters, must live 
on every block in America — and 
they are telling us something. 

The movies are telling us some- 
thing, too. Not necessarily by way 
of the national grosses — you won't 
learn about anything much except 
money from watching, say. how 
much Capricorn One makes ver- 
sus Jaws 2. But you will learn from 
the movies themselves, the 
obscure ones as well as the fa- 
mous ones, the fascinating semi- 
failures like Logan's Run or the un- 
expected, thoughtful beauties like 
(the uncut version of) The Man 
Who Fell to Earth. The fact that 
almost anything can now show up 
in a science -fiction fi Im may be the 

Simpson in Capricorn One. 

Robot seductress in Metropolis. 

is a kind oi embalming, meaning 
thai people fondly remember the 
genre; Ihey don't still live with it. But 
science fiction, which goes back 
literally to the beginnings of the 
business (George Melies. A Voy- 
age to the Moon. 1902— though he 
was working on what you might call 
science fiction almost five years 
before), is livelier now than ever. 
Even the horrendous horror film. 
writhing through a generation of 
nonstop demonic possession, fol- 
lows the trend. The better the hor- 
ror movie — Carrie. The Fury. 
perhaps the first £xorc;st— the bet- 
ter; it knows where on earth it 
stands and the closer it comes to 
feeling like science fiction. 
The science fiction I've read 

tends to be as long on science as it 
is on fiction. It depends on the— 
often elegant — structures used to 
explain the existence of some- 
place else, at another time, in a 
different physical or moral uni- 
verse, The movies usually simplify 
this, perhaps without much real 
loss, into relatively straightforward 
adventures or dramas of escape. 
All it takes is the other place and 
thefuture— or a past so distant that 
it's circled around to become the 
future once again. That time and 
place may be fully developed and 
self-contained, as in Star Wars, it 
may be closely encountered by us 
here on earth for the first time, and 
in that case it will take tremendous 
intellectual effort to meet it. Or we 
may enter it boldly, as Charlton 
Heston did in Planet of the Apes 
and Woody Allen in Sleeper or any 
of those bright-eyed astronauts of 
the 1960s B-movies. who kept 
wrecking their spaceships on 
charming female planets ruled by 
nubile, mini-skirted geniuses far 
beyond mere earthlings in ag- 
ronomy, astronomy, and breast de- 

in (he long run, how you reach 
your destination (which may be all 
there is of the "science") doesn't 
make much difference. The aim of 

most great fie- ~^, 
tional journeys of' -"'J% 
adventure is to get you ' * 
back to where you came 
from. The aim of most film sci- 
ence-fiction journeys of adventure 
is to show you, whatever the time- 
space warp, that you never left 
home. To encounter a new world 
seems !he aim of most science fic- 
tion. But for that new world to make 
any sense at all. it must furnish a 
perspective on our own. So. while 
the adventure may start in hope or. 
more often, in terror, if it continues it 
will inevitably become aform of so- 
cial satire. That's where it begins to 
count. And that's why science-fic- 
tion films, from Metropolis (1926) to 
Forbidden Planet (1956) to Lo- 
gan's Run (1976). have indirectly 
said so much more about our fears 
and our desires than have the most 
solemn, topical "problem" pictures. 
It takes only a science-fiction 
Utopia, or false Utopia, to give our 
thoughts a location and a name. 

I don't mean to make these 
movies all sound alike. The genre 
is wonderfully tolerant. In fact, you 
can take almost any kind of story, 
stick in a few death rays and a 
spaceshipr and you've got a sci- 
ence-fiction film. Purists will cringe, 
but purists have never understood 

The false Utopia of Forbidden Planet: exposing our 

way. Film ^ Jane Fonda a. 


on off- 
hand gestures. It doesn't need to 
worry about logical d 

Thus Peter Hyams's recent 
Capricorn One reasonably clas- 
sifies as science fiction (though it's 
essentially melodramatic political 
fiction making use of science) be- 
cause it uncovers an alien pres- 
ence, which happens to be our own 
trusted officialdom, busily betray- 
ing an even more trusted ethical 
system while seated around our 
swimming pools or gathered in our 
own front yards. The Capricorn as- 
tronauts, whom the space agency 
must eliminate so they won't ex- 
pose a faked landing on Mars, also 
discover a new planet— the des- 
erts of our own— as surely as any 
more typical travelers in the galaxy. 
Twenty years ago the movies 
1 would have had them joining the 
$ army. navy, and marines in fighting 
g against some monstrous invader 
I brought back, of course, inside a 
* rock sample from Mars. Today they 
e fight against the army, and the let- 
ters'NASA' figure large on all the 

enemy's equipment. A while back, 
entered a period of paranoid 
individualism directed against the 
system — an intelligent attitude re- 
sponsible for some good movies, of 
which Capricorn One is far from 
the best. Science fiction has been 
dealing with that at least from 2001 

Do you remember the mad sci- 
entist in The Thing (Howard Hawks 
and Christian Nyby. 1951). the guy 
who for the sake of science wanted 
to keep those seed pods growing 
no matter how much precious 
human blood they consumed? 
There have been a thousand like 
the years. Well, the plot 
has been — to 
produce Richard Dreyfuss in Close 
Encounters, needing the tempo- 
rary gift of madness to make his 
privileged contact with the new- 
style flying-saucer people, who 
want nothing better than to be our 
friends. The older aliens were usu- 
ally after something— our air, our 
blood, our bodies (Invasion of the 

Body Snatchers, 1956. and now 
being remade), or our sons and 
daughters (Children of the 
Damned, 1963). When they did 
manifest themselves, they were 
disgraceful', blobs or slime, or su- 
perintelligent reptiles that com- 
municated only by shrieks and 
groans. But the new aliens want to 
be understood— just as the mad 
scientists always thought they 
did — and their happy destiny is to 
show us how really mad we were to 
be afraid. 

The young hero of Logan's Run . 
where everyone is supposed to be 
"reborn" at thirty, escapes his per- 
fect universe initially so as not to 
die. but incidentally to discover an 
access to old age . Old age appears 
in the form of an ancient Peter Us- 
tinov, surrounded by cats, haunting 
the ruins of the U.S. Capitol. An 
altogether winning portrait, which 
reverses the 1960s nonsense 
about not trusting anybody over 
thirty, "rt sets against the idea of so- 
cial utility a solitary longevity valu- 
able even for its vagueness, for all 
it has lived through and managed 
to forget. 

If Logan's Run is a science-fic- 
tion success story, then Nicolas 
Roeg's The Man Who Fell to Earth 

sonal failure. It ends with its 
superior being from outer space 
(David Bowie) succumbing to dry 
martinis, the last remembrance of 
the desperate thirst that brought 
him to earth in the first place, 
Roeg's movie, more than Close 
Encounters or Star Wars, seems 
as good as recent science fiction 
has become: gentle, elegiac, and 
impressive more for the delicacy of 
its perceptions than for even the 
most spectacular— or mystical— 
of special effects. 

What comes next. I shouldn't 
care to guess. Science fiction is 
infinitely adaptable, and it goes 
back a long way. It goes back to 
before the invention of the movies. 
at least to the eighteenth century 
and the origins of some attitudes 
basic to the scientific frame of 
mind. I should have centered it all 
in Jonathan Swift's great anli scien- 
tific satire. Gulliver's Travels, and 
the movies, of course, would have 
proved me wrong. At this year's 
Cannes Film Festival, producer 
Oliver A. Unger circulated a couple 
of glossy, four-color pages announc- 
ing what masterpiece of cinema he 
has in the works: "One Step Beyond 
Star Wars and Close Encounters: 
John Milton's Paradise Lost." — 
Roger Greenspun 



J ^ here was a time— not so 
long ago— when women 
knew their place in sci- 
ence fiction. That place was not in 
the kitchen or in the bed of the 
hero, as in some other forms of 
fiction, but rather in the sticky-fin- 
gered embrace of an eight- 
tentacled purple people-eater from 
Canopus IV 

These horrific, never-qu He- con- 
summated liaisons between scanti- 
ly clad maidens and alien monsters 
adorned the covers of science -fic- 
tion pulp magazines in the thirties 
and forties and even into the fifties. 
and they helped give the genre a 
bad name among librarians, 
school m arms, and parents. Alas, 
the pulchritude in science fiction 
was only skin deep. The stories 
behind the lurid covers were al- 
most entirely asexual— the real 
buzz came not when boy met girl 
but when boy met rocket ship or 
when two scientists went mano a 
mano. with the fate of the galaxy 
hanging in the balance. 

It goes without saying that the 
protagonists in these stones of ad- 
venture were almost all male, and 
that the few women professionals 
who wrote science fiction dis- 
guised their identity behind an- 
drogynous initials (like C. L Moore) 
or hid completely behind mas- 
culine pen names. How drastically 
all this has changed I Names like 
Ursula Le Guin. Joanna Russ. and 
Anne McCaffrey now adorn the 
covers, and they write, more often 
than not. about women. 

Logan's Run: 

And what women! Freed from 
the constraints ot contemporary 
sexual politics, science-fiction 
writers no longer have to show their 
heroines battling for their rights or 
learning to handle newfound free- 
dom; the women can simply take 
the initial victories for granted and 
go on from there. 

The heroine of Vonda N. Mcln- 
tyre's Dreamsnake (Houghton- 
Mifflin. $8.95) is a highly accom- 
plished "healer" on a planet where 
survival skills are paramount. 
There are deserts to cross, fierce 
storms to avoid, and diseases to 
overcome, but the woman called 
Snake is a match for them all. She 
ministers to the sick with the helpof 
genetically altered serpents, 
whose venom glands yield vac- 
cines and medications to fit particu- 
lar illnesses. She is gentle with her 
patients, loving but firm with her 
serpents, fiercely combative with 
the men who stand in her way, 
open-minded about everything 
else. Unoppressed. she carries 
around no ideological baggage 
about sexual oppressors. This 
well-crafted novel tells how she ac- 
quires a family worthy of her— a 
brave and sensitive adopted 
daughter and a man tough enough 
and passionate enough to be her 
mate. Mclntyre leaves just enough 
loose ends in the plot to suggest 
that she has a sequel in mind. I, for 
one. look forward to watching 
Snake in action again, if only to see 
whether domesticity camps her 

The Two ot Them iBerxley ■'Put- 
nam. $8.91)) Sy Joanna Russ. is 
about a woman who travels to a 
distant planet to loarn that all 
men — including her lover and 
mentor — are The Fnemy The 
planet, called Ka'abah. has a cul- 
ture based, for some unexplained 
reason, on the social order de- 
picted in the Arabian Nights sto- 
ries. Irene Waskiewcz who has 
been recruited into a ktndol cosmic 
CIA called the Trans lemporal Au- 
thority (or The Gang, for short), 
blows her cover and her cool when 
she decides to rescue the daughter 
of a local official from a fate worse 
than death: the cosseted, tightly 
restricted existence of a wife and 
mother in a male-dominated soci- 


ety. Irene kidnaps the girl, and 
when Ernst, her bedmate and fel- 
low agent, tries to interfere, she 
dispassionately dispatches him. 
Irene is a whiz at physical combat 
and at diddling computers, and she 
is apparently good in bed when the 
mood strikes her. But her impulsive 
behavior on Ka'abah seems like a 
tTowback to another era of 'wom- 
en's fiction." She judges all crea- 
tion in terms of what feels right to 
her. Of course. Russ has stacked 
:ne cards to make Ka'abah an out- 
mgnous oa'ody of a sexist society, 
But in a science- fiction context — 
with its implicit message that the 
universe is larger and more varied 
than anyihing we may have 
dreamed— Irene comes across as 
a narrow-minded prig. 

Millennial Women (Delacorte 
Press. $8.95) is an anthology of 
shorter science fiction by women 
writers, edited by Virginia Kidd. By 
far the most interesting of the six 
stories is a short novel by Ursula Le 
Guin entitled "The Eye of the Her- 

on.' 1 As usual. Le Guin's theme is 
the search for the ideal society, and 
as usual, she displays an aware- 
ness that this search cannot be 
successful unless relationships be- 
tween men and women are restruc- 
tured. Like Russ. she likes to play 
with a stacked deck. She imagines 
a distant world that has been set- 
tled by two groups; one group has 
set up a virtual replica of a competi- 
tive male-dominated earth society, 
and the other is a pacifist, non- 
sexist anarchy based on the prin- 
ciples of Gandhi and Martin Luther 
King, ButLe Guin is never satisfied 
with easy victories. In the inevita- 
ble confrontation between the two 
societies, the anarchists do rather 
well, but it is Luz. the daughter of 
the other group's "boss." who 
teaches them that resistance itself 
can be self-defeating. Le Guin's 
point cannot be reduced to a sim- 
ple slogan; she knows that 
truth — about society, about men 
and women— is not discoverable in 
the abstract. Ideals that ignore cir- 

cumstances are ultimately as con- 
fining as prison bars. 

At first glance, Jacqueline 
Lichtenberg's Unto Zeor, Forever 
(Doubleday. $7.95) does not ap- 
pear to say anything about the rela- 
tionships between men and 
women. She has invented a future 
world in which a mutated human 
race has split into two subspecies, 
the Simes and the Gens. Like junk- 
ies, the Simes must have periodic 
fixes of a vital force called selyn. 
The only source of selyn is the 
body of a Gen; Gens make selyn. 
which they don't need; Simes need 
selyn. but they cannot make it. 
When a Sime is in "need." he or 
she goes hunting for a Gen. Unfor- 
tunately, the act of drawing selyn 
from a Gen's body usually means 
death for the Gen. Since Gens 
can't breed fast enough to keep 
Simes supplied with selyn. the sur- 
vival of both races obviously depends 
on some form of cooperation. 

Lichtenberg explores this tense 
situation with such an c 

eye for detail that anyone who 
picks up the book may experience 
reentry problems in returning to the 
real world. The author does not 
burden her tale with allegorical 
overtones, but readers who cannot 
find parallels to the Sime-Gen rela- 
tionship in their own lives are not 
living in any "real world" that I rec- 

Not that male writers of science 
fiction have entirely forsaken the 
female form. The heroine of John 
Boyd's The Pollinators of Eden 
(Penguin. $1.95) is a beautiful, bril- 
liant, but frigid scientist named 
Freda Janet Caron. This is the 
story of how 3 planet of sentient 
plants and a young graduate stu- 
dent named Hal Polino straighten 
her out. As one might guess from 
this brief synopsis, Boyd is having 
fun with pomposity of various 
types, from the sexual to the scien- 
tific. Among the objects of his satire 
are science fiction itself and por- 
nography. Warning: if descriptions 
of sexual encounters between 
consenting flora and fauna offend 
you. don't read this book. 

The Jewel-Hinged Jaw 
(Berkley/Windhover, $4.95), by 
Samuel R. Detany, is subtitled "Es- 
says on Science Fiction." I mention 
that here because Delany is one of 
the best science-fiction writers 
around, and whatever he has to 
say about his craft and his fellow 
writers is worth reading. But for me 
the most interesting parts of his 
book are the autobiographical 
passages. In many of his science- 
fiction stories, Delany speculates 
about how sex in future societies 
will differ from our own. He writes 
sensitively and provocatively about 
male and female roles, about fam- 
ily structures, about the interplay 
between genetics and culture. Ac- 
cording to his testimony in this 
book, Delany grew up in black Har- 
lem, attended a private school on 
the Upper East Side of Manhattan, 
and enthusiastically participates in 
a gay fathers' group with his own 
child. Unlike the maunderings of 
writers who prattle on about them- 
selves, everything Delany says of 
a personal nature deepens our ap- 
preciation of his science fiction and 
of all fiction that takes the future 
seriously.— Gerald Jonas 


UW hen the aliens sound 
lT their musical greeting in 
t Close Encounters of the 
Third Kind, they're conforming to a 
widespread popular notion of what 
the music of the future will be like, 
it's difficult to pinpoint ]ust where 
this notion came from, although the 
sound tracks to earlier science- 
fiction films, the pronouncements 
of certain electronic composers. 
and the performances of space- 
rock groups like Pink Floyd must 
have had something to do with it, 
In any case, it is usually imag- 
ined that the music of the future will 
be electronically generated and 
that it will somehow be more than 
music. Like the aliens' greeting in 
Close Encounters, it will do what 
people through the centuries have 
depended 0,1 meditation or drugs 
to do: it will alter consciousness. 

If further evidence is needed of 
how widespread these ideas are, 
consider the advertising for two re- 
cent albums of electronic music. 
"It's an album that contains no hit 
singles." boasts the ad copy for 
German Composer Michael Hoe- 
nig's Departure from the Northern 
Wasteland (Warner Brothers). "It 
does have what the best records of 
the future will have: an effect on the 
listener that goes beyond music. 
It's so hypnotic, so relaxing, that 
listeners are sure to leave their 
bodies for the forty-five minutes it's 
on their turntables. No kidding!" 

The producers of Pythagoron 
(Pythagoron inc.. P.O. Box 2123. 

■ Michael Hoanig 

Grand Central Station. New York. 
N.Y 10017) claim that their product 
"is not just music but sound, con- 
trolled with electronic precision to 
alter your awareness, to get you 
high. Developed through years of 
research into the resonant interac- 
tion ol sound and brain- wave pat- 
terns. Pythagoron sound is unique 
in concept and production." 

Once on the turntable, the record 
turns out to be somewhat more 
prosaic. It includes a heartbeat 
sound that swells and recedes, 
vanishes and reappears, along 
with various electronic tones that 
resonate together and then spread 
apart in long washes of sound. It 
may be scientific, and if you put it 
on in a dark room and lie down, it 
might get you high; stranger things 
have happened. But you have to 
4 it to get you high. It isn't going 
to change your perceptions in the 
blink of an eye. 

Departure from the Northern 
Wasteland is related to 
.German school of synthi 
r rock, Hoenig is a char- 

played with Agitation Free and 
Tangerine Dream, and like most of 
the music in the idiom, his Depar- 
ture is dazzling but derivative. It's 
easy enough to discern the 
sources of Tangerine Dream's 
concoctions, which usually recre- 
ate conventional orchestral sounds 
and stay close to a nineteenth- 
century romantic idiom. Departure 
is more seductive, but people who 
listen to contemporary concert 
music will recognize the influence 
of a group of younger American 
composers, among them Philip 
Glass. Steve Reich, Terry Riley, 
and La Monte Young. Like Hoenig. 
they use repeating phrases, over- 
lapping rhythm patterns, and a 
clear tonal center to establish a 
trancelike stasis. Perhaps the most 



accessible of all their works 
is Philip Glass's North 
Star (Virgin), an album that 
contains short pieces but still 
manages bewitching effects. 
Glass isn't surprised lo he; 
elements of his music in pi 
gressive rock from Europe. He has 
been performing there since the 
late sixties. So has Terry Hiley, 
whose Columbia Masterworks 
album A Rainbow in Curved Air 
was perhaps the single most im- 
portant influence on the space rock 
of the sixties. And so. since Ihe 
early seventies at ieast. has Steve 
Reich. But unlike Riiey and Reich. 
Glass goes out of his way to inter- 
act with pop musicians. When he 
performed at London's Royal Col- 
lege of Art in 1970. the students in 
the audience included David 
Bowie and Brian Eno. now leaders 
of English progressive rock. Eno is 
currently in New York, producing 
rock records, and Glass is fre- 
quently seen in his company. 

In June. Glass and his futuristic 
ensemble of amplified saxo- 
phones, keyboards, and voices 
gave a sold-out concert at Car- 
negie Hall. His music from the 
opera "Einstein on the Beach," 
which includes a remarkable 
"Spaceship" sequence that seems 
to lift listeners out of their seats, 
was greeted with thunderous 
applause. "I remember reading a 
letter of Mozart's." Glass said not 
long after the concert, "and he 
commented that in every coffee 
shop people were singing arias 
from The Marriage of Figaro. 
There was a time when we didn't 
have this tremendous distance be- 
tween the popular audience and 
the audience for concert music. 
There was a time when composers 
like Liszt and Berlioz made their 
living playing. I think we're ap- 
proaching that stage again." 

In an interview with Synapse, 
the international electronic music 
magazine. Michael Hoenig ex- 
pressed even more clearly what - 
this new kind of music may mean 
for the future. "I think the clear fonal 
center and basic pulse are just 
coming back." he said, "and more 
and more people are realizing that 
this is going to be a very heavy new 
energy. It's going to be a new form 


of music — meta-musik. 
with an up-to-now' 
unknown universality — and" 
it's just the very, very begin- 


Another musician who is playing 
tomorrow's music today is the jazz 
composer and bandleader known 
as Sun Ra. Together with his en- 
semble—which has been known 
variously as the Intergalactic 
Cosmo Arkestra. the Myth Science 
Arkestra. and the Saturn Research 
Arkestra over the past twenty 
years— Sun Ra gives perfor- 
mances that might well be the work 
of extraterrestrial beings. The Ar- 
kestra. composed of ten or twelve 
horn players and another dozen 
percussionists, heaves and sighs, 
making squawks and bleeps and 
giggles and snorts like a saucerful 
of frolicking space creatures. Sun 
Ra coaxes the sound of rocket 
exhausts out of his synthesizer. 
Two small female dancers, who 
seem to be identical twins, pirou- 
ette across the stage in glittering 
tunics, moving like mechanical 
dolls to the Arkestra's complex 
rhythms.- Then, on cue. the entire 
band begins to sing: "If you find 
Earth boring, just the same old 
same thing, come on and sign up 

with Outer Spaceways 
'Incorporated." Sometimes 
Sun Ra will lecture the au- 
dience: "You're just running a 
God -forsaken planet here. This 
i example to all the rest of the 
planets: don't ever get cut off from 
the rest of the universe, or you'll 
end up like planet Earth." Some- 
times the entire band marches 
through the audience, playing and 
singing, up and down the aisles of 
a theater and even between the 
rows of seats. lt's"When the Saints 
Go Marching In" and "2001" at the 

Ra doesn't talk much about his 
past, but apparently he was bom in 
Birmingham around 1915 and 
played with several well-known 
swing bands before forming the 
first edition of his Arkestra in 1956, 
He is a mercurial, engaging con- 
versationalist, though talking to 
him can be eerie. A few years ago 
Ra was talking to this writer back- 
stage after a performance, describ- 
ing his visit to the Great Pyramid. "I 
visited the king's chamber." he re- 
called, "and since that was Ra's 
chamber and the number of Ra is 
nine. I said the name Ra nine 
times. And all the lights in the 
pyramid went out " At that 

Sun Ra: extraterrestrial. 

moment, as if right on cue, all 
the lights in the theater went 
out. They came back up a mo- 
later, and it turned out that a 
had flicked them on and 
'off to try to persuade everybody to 
go home. But the coincidence did 
give one pause. 

Sun Ra can claim more credit for 
getting to the music of the future 
first than any other jazzman can. 
Back in 1960 he made a remark- 
able album called The Magic City 
(Impulse) that introduced synthe- 
sizer solos, free-floating rhythms. 
and thunderous full-band improvi- 
sations into the music. The stage 
shows he began mounting during 
the late fifties furnished a model for 
groups like the Mothers of In- 
vention and Parliament/Funkadel- 
ic. But he could never be pinned 
down; his music was always 
changing. His latest album. Live at 
Montreux (Inner City), a marvelous 
two- record set ot concert perfor- 
tces. finds him still forging 

"You might say I'm in tune with 
nature," Sun Ra says by way of 
explanation, "and my rhythms are 
what is happening with changes in 
the stars' positions, the weather, 
everything, I can hear everywhere 
in the cosmos, so I just play it. And 
there's nothing static about the 
cosmos. Everything Is up in the 
cosmos, everything is out in space, 
and the earth itself is sitting out 
here suspended, with no strings at- 
tached to it. So the music, if it's 
going to be real music, must also 
hang suspended. In that case the 
people's minds and their physical, 
mental, and spiritual feelings will 
be lifted up, because the music will 
be in keeping with the cosmos." 

Sun Ra's music is more unpre- 
dictably emotive than the cool, 
lucid constructions of Philip Glass 
and Michael Hoenig. But the future 
will need both kinds of music, and 
Sun Ra probably speaks for all mu- 
sical futurists when he says, "You 
have to have an intuitive plan, un- 
known things, uncharted paths for 
people. It's all a wilderness, and 
you've got to have pioneers to 
go out there and discover and 
achieve."— Rob ert Palmer CH— g 


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Skywalker, and tl 

Vader also compelled millions lo 

biggest box-office — - ■ 





•m- M Wd ' - rH H ."|j, M m, ii: ^n 

nich opened six '^oniii^ after Star Ways, had grossed $11 

¥Wf§,>>'!. ''Ji, 1 ', 1 nimf?.'. 11 ' 1 ^fyM 1 ,*; 

programming dramatically. NBC alone plans three r 


i ten years ago. The thu 

at :c moon panel o'i s 
zines bandied ab 
spectacular but guile 

lion car be "-.easuioc by trie [act that while 
Star Wars was the subject of an even dozen 
learned papers do vered at the recent na- 
tional convention of. the Center '"or the Study 
of Popular Culture, the film has also' in- 
spired a crudely drawn eighty-page 
Tijuana bible." 

Some admirers travel across the country 
and around the world for a chance lo 
glimpse the film's heroes in the flesh. Mark 
Hamill. Star Wars' Luke Skywaiker. says, 
"They're transfixed Some of them have 
been so touched by what they see as this 
beautiful revelai.on "hat they probably pro- 
ject themselves into tha~ lyrical existence. 
It's so attractive to them; they use it as a 
symbol of everything Ihey want in life, ail 
thatunlulfil ' s o famasy and adventure, lean- 
understand it completely." Mark, himself a 
science-fiction film buff, is also aware of a 
Star Wars backlash-, "There are ads in some 
'."■-71— i"'."--- ': '.or iar- ■•aaaznes ! hai or.y--- 
ise. Absolutely nothing to do with Star Wars 
in this issue!' I totally sympathize. But I 

opera" that, along with Cfose Encounters. 
has rocketed this quirky, cranky, rnfnd- 
btowing thing called 'sconce lotion ir:o 
the twentieth century of big bucks, mass 
media, and the madness of crowds. 

And The Force will continue lo be with 
science-fiction audiences. Shooting for 
Star Wars It is expected lo begin next Feb- 
ruary, "and if all goes well, the first sequel to 
Star Wars will be released by Christmas ot 
1979. All. in all, there are ten Star Wars 
sequels being planned by Star Wars Cor- 
poration, one of four such organizations 
that director Geo-ge Lucas has established 
to deal with his galactic $80 million share, of 
the film's gross. 

All kinds of commercial— and cul- 
tural- corder; a-e being broken by Star 
Wars mania. Witness the sale of Star Wars 
memorabilia— records. T-shirts, lunch 
boxes, light-beam toys, and bubble gum — 
which i expected to total S200 million 
by the end of next year. John Williams's 
musical scores for Star- Wars and Cfose 
Encounters were featured in a special pops 
concert by the Los Angeles Philharmonic. 
in which a baseball stadium was trans- 
formed by a giant laser display into "the 
world's biggest jukebox ... a Martian 
Fourth oi Ju : y " Jeff Fishman of Los Angeles 
received a Star Wars bar mitzvah party, 
complete with cosmic disco and robot 
ushers. Many fans- have seen the film doz- 
ens of times, but a woman and son in Ok- 
lahoma hold the unofficial record at more 
than 200 viewings. Another woman bought 
a iree in Israel and dedicated it to Darth 
Vader. The range of sociological apprecia- 

Several years before 

science discovered 

the possibility of black holes 

in space, science-fiction 

writer Joe Haldeman 

had invented the idea, 

screen, i he series' oricj 'lal cast has t 
reassembled, and ah undisclosed bu 
able budget will make the film vis 
competitive well other h e-gies when it 
leased by Paramount in the summr 
1979. Dino De LaurenSs = Ftesft Su- 

ture drawn by Philippe Druillc. '.he He- 
Metal artist; and Space Prciio. a Ds 

;. Chin 


don't see why people go* so upset about i h . 
All I care about is the nex; mov : o preserv- 
ing the enthusiasm, so that the sequel will 
be a real treat to do. And if people don't like 
Star Wars, why don't they just not go to see- 
it anymore? Don't think about it; don't buy 
the bubble gum. But don't get upset about 
it! It's only amowe." 

Whether they are movies or soft-core re- 
ligions, the cinematic visions of author- 
directors George Lucas and Steven Spiel- 
berg have launched a thousand rocket 
ships in the form of a growing number of 
film and television projects based on 
science-fiction and fantasy themes. "I ac- 
tually see. it. as a phenomenon. .now." says 
Howard Zimmerman, editor of the 
science-fiction media magazine Starlog. 
which has a circulation of 500.000. "When 
This Island Earth came out in the fifties, 
everyone thought. This is it: the big splash 
that will make science ficnon legitimate and 
put us over the top. Of course, that didn't 
happen. Then, when 2001 hit in the sixties, 
it was the same thing; everyone in the field 
feltth/s was '.he big breakthrough to — you'll 
pardon the expression — the mundane au- 
dience. In science- c, c"ior ei' " Zim- 
"e-man polneiy explains, "people who are 


ducer Ed Pressman is preparir _ 
lion version of Conan, the Barbarian. 

Television has taken the science 
.fiction-science fantasy craze as seriously 
as have the moviemakers. Among the 
futuristic shows one can expec :o see tnis 
season or the next are a "Buck Rogers" 
scries, an animated "Flash Gordon" spe- 
cia . and mir-iscnes cased on Aldous Hux- 
ley's Brave New World and Ray Bradbury's 
Martian Chronicles. "Doc Strange" and 
"Mandrake the Magician" will be weekly 
regulars, along with lovable "Mork and 
Mindy" from the planet Ork — a cosmic sit- 
com from the makers of "Happy Bays. '"The 
project causing the most excitement, 
though, is Battle Star; Gaiactica. a Univer- 
sal production for ABC which science- 
fiction enthusiasts hope-will do for televi- 
sion what Star Wars did for movies. Indeed, 
the creative force behind the show is John 
Dykstra. "George Lucas's special-effects 
chief for Star Wars." Originally commis- 
sioned as three television movies that 
would run throughout the summer. Gaiac- 
tica, starring Lome Greene, was picked up 
as a series belce a oilot was even made. At 
that stage, more than $10 million had been 
spent— more than .51 million an hour— 

making it perhaps ihe mcs! expensive tele- 
vision project ever. 

Even public "educational" television 
(PBS) is getting into the act with an unpre- 
cedented $740,000 grant from the Corpo- 
ration for Public Broadcasting for a two- 
part adaptation of Ursula K. LeGuin's The 
Lathe of Heaven (19.71). WNET (Channel 
13), the PBS affiliate in New York, is produc- 
ing the program, with filming to begin this 
fall .and release scheduled for 1979. 

Everybody, it would seem, has finally 
caught the bug in a big way. But is what 
they're coming down with real science fic- 
tion? How do authors who make their living 
crealing these visions of the future respond 
to I ho work of "outsiders" ''■«: Spielbe-y and 

Isaac Asirnov, author of several classics 
in the field, says "Star Wars was great 
nonintellectual fun. and I enjoyed it. I hated- 
Close Encounters , which struck me as very 
noisy, pretentious nonsense. To many 
people nowadays science fclion means 'i- 
lercsting specie; effects: if you make a 
screw unscrew itself, lhat's science fiction. 
But who's to say they're wrong? If that's 
what turns. them on. fine." 

Janet E. Morris, author of the Silistra 
series of "sword and planet" adventures, 
thinks. "Star Wars was a science-fiction 
movie. Close Encounters was a very ex- 
pensive B-grade UFO film. That movie, to 
be science fiction, would have had to start 
where itended. with the guys coming out of 
the spaceship. " 

Ray Bradbury, sometimes billed by his 
publisher as "the greatest living science- 
fiction writer." responds uneguivocally. "Oh 
God. absolutely, yes. Star Wars is a variety 
of space opera that has been around since 
I was- a child. Close. Encounters is a varia- 
tion orf many themes explored by people 
like H.G. Wells. Jules Verne, and all the 
writers, including me. Indeed, it is science 
fiction." At the same time, many authors, 
including. Harlan Ellison and Ben' Bova. 
have vociferously made known- their dislike 
of Lucas's flick. 

I' ;ho science-fiction people cannot 
agree on the merits of these, blockbusters 
supposedly introducing fragments of their 
collective world view into the mainstream of 
.popular culture, it is not surprising that they 
have not come up with a definition of sci- 
ence fiction itself that will satisfy all and 
offend none. A random questioning pro- 
duces diverse and occasionally contradic- 
tory explications. 

Critic H. Bruce Franklin suggests "litera- 
ture that deals with the. future" as a defini- 
tion, while Starlog's Howard Zimmerman 
says. "It does not have to take place in- the 
future, It can take place in the present or, 
like The Time Machine, in the past. You're 
extrapolating known scientific principles 
for possible future scenarios, then examin- 
ing how it will affect people. Scientific ex- 
trapolation plus social ramification; that in-, 
eludes everything from Frankenstein to 

Isaac Asirnov thinks that "science fiction 
deals with the response of human beings to 

changes in the level of science and 
technology. If you wish, you can include 
almost anything: The Odyssey, 1984, exor- 
cism stories. I have a rather narrow defini- 
tion, narrower than most people's, f think 
that unless a story deals with science — 
and even with .scienfTsts — it is not really 
science fiction. " 

Ray Bradbury says. "I often poinl out that 
Singin' in the Rain is a science-fiction mu- 
sical. It tells the story of- an impossible 
invention — sound — coming into motion 
pictures. If I'd been a praclicing science- 
fiction writer in 1920 and tried to sell you 
that story you would have rejected it as 
implausible. Well, all of a sudden films did 
begin lo speak, and Hollywood was thrown 
into an uproar. Thaf's science hctonal. isn't 
it? An impossible thing that suddenly be- 
comes possible, through a technology" 

"The common denominator." thinks writer 
Joe Hald.eman. "is speculation, which 
ranges all the way from the hard-edged 
detail of a toilet in an orbiting space station 

The sale of Star Wars 

memorabilia alone — 
records. T-shirts, bubble gum. 

and so on — will total 

$200 million by 
the end of next year. 

towhala social system wouid be like if you 
would interbreed Marxism and capitalism. 
It's all the same impulse: to invent some- 
thing in a screwy kind of way that is charac- 
teristically science fictional. It's really won- 
derful stuff, you know?" 

■Spoonc cognitions aside, the genre has 
been around at least since the nineteenth 
century, when writers like Jules Verne in- 
vented a new kind of tale that stretched the 
imagination in order to- contain the implica- 
tions o~ the scienlific and industrial revolu- 
tions'. H, Bruce Franklin, who teaches sci- 
ence fiction al Rutgers Unversity and is the 
author of Future Perfect cor: ends that sci- 
ence fiction in America was brought to birth 
by the best writers of mainstream literature. 
'Almost every single major American author 
of the njneteenth century" Franklin reports, 
"wrote some science fiction: Washington 
Irving. Nathaniel Hawthorne. Herman Mel- 
ville. Jack London. Henry James. Mark 
Twain, and so on. This was in part because 
of the phenomenal change in the quality of 
life brought about by the development of 
technology and science. The nineteenth 
century began with the invention of the 
locomotive and ended with ;he invention of 
the airplane and the automobile. Barbed 

wire and the machine gun introduced !he 
twentieth century right into the middle of 
the nineteenth! That's why major authors 
turned to science fiction: as a way to try to 
describe the reality in which they found 

Nevertheless, science fiction soon 
branched off from mainstream literature, at 
least in the consciousness o : laste-shaping 
academic critics. By the third decade of 
the twentieth century, the futuristic musings 
of writers like Welles had become the stuff 
of daily comic slrips and cheap magazines 
whose pages crumbled even as they were 
turned for the first time. The "ghettoization" 
of the genre had begun. 

Frederik Pohl. multi-award-winning 
science-fiction author and, until recently. 
Bantam Books' science-fiction editor, ex- 
plains. "Beginning in 1926 with Hugo 
Gernsback's Amazing Stories and for a 
good thirty years after that, the great bulk of 
science fiction was in pulp magazines, 
much of it written by- wrilers who would 
finish one story about a trip to Mars arid 
immedialely start another about an old 
prospector and his burro. Most of the pulp 
editors, with honorable excs:)l ion:.-; ca»o no 
more thoughl to what went into their 
science-fiction magazine than they did to 
whaf went into r hoi r honor magazines. And 
most lay people thought of the science- ' 
fiction stories as being no better in kind 
than the love stories or the air war stories or 
the sports stories." 

Pohl's own first work was published in 
1937. "I was fifteen when I wrote it, sixteen 
when it was accepted, seventeen when it 
was published, and eighteen when I got 
paid. I recently calculated how much 
money [rie successful scence-hciion writer 
made in the 1930s: twelve dollars a week. 
That's all there was lo go around. There 
were only a few magazines, they weren't 
paying very much, and even then there 
were quite a number of writers competing 
for space." 

The forlies and fifties are often referred to 
as the golden age of science fiction, al- 
though an equally quoteo remark has it that 
"the golden age of science fichon is 
whenever you're Ihirtoen years old." Isaac 
Asirnov, whose Foundation trilogy was one 
cf "he corne-slonos ct that golden age. re- 
members those years with nostalgia. 
"When 1 was young, it was a small, compact 
-field, Everyone felt they could cling to- 
gether for companionship, in a strange and 
hostile outside world. We weren't much 
conscious of being looked down upon: 
mostly we were ignored. It was very much 
of a cottage industry. There were three 
magazines, but only one that counted: 
Astounding Science Fiction, whose editor 
was John Campbell. I was fortunate 
enough to live within subway range, and I ,. 
would visit him every few weeks with a story. 
We'd discuss the last one — usually, why 
he'd rejected it. We'd talk about all sorts Of 
things, and I would go back home all 
charged up and write another story. This 
went on for three years. John Campbell 
taught me how to wrile— or encouraged 

me to teach myself. Then came World War 
Two. andevR'ylning gradually changed; I'd 
gotten my start. However. I must admit, the 
most exciting time for me personally was 
those early years with Campbell." 

Others have less rosy memories, For 
some the golden age had a rather dark 
side. Ray Bradbury, whose fiction has sold 
more than 17 million books tor Bantam 
alone, says, "It was lonely — and paranoid. 
I suppose, because people made iun. I 
remember going to New York in 1951, 
when Martian Chronicles and The Illus- 
trated Man had just been published. I 
.went to, .a party at someone's house one 
nigh:. "" here ■■.'.■ere all these writers and the 
whole iroupe'of the New York City Ballet. 
When Ihey found out what I did for a liv- 
ing — my God. the hilarity! They called me 
Buck Rogers, Flash Gordon . . . Well. I've 
remembered all those names! And when I 
bump into Ihoso people nowadays. I shove 
it up their nose and break it off. 'Cause I'm 
not a good Christian about this. They had. 
no imagination, anuMhey couldn't see it 
coming, and what a shame, to miss but on 
the fun of walehirg a thing co~-e lo birth " 

One factor contr, biting to the creation of 
a solid science-fiction readership was the 
post-World War Two technology. The atom 
bomb, television, and Sputnik made rocket 
ships less of a loony prospect and more a 
subject for serious speculation. A second 
factor was the ready availability of science 
ficlior- : n inexpensive paperback form. Ian 

Ballaniine. founder of Ballantine Books. 
was the first to publish science fiction regu- 
larly in "iass-'"arke: paperbaund editions, 
effectively launching the -nodem science- 
fiction market. 'All the Other publishers 
thought I was crazy." Ballantine remem- 
bers, "but the books sold for me in a really 
remarkable way. I had very good advice 
"then from Fred Pohl. I also had the cream of 
the cream to pick from: Theodore Sturgeon. 
Arthur C. Clarke, Fred Pohl. and C. M. 
Kornbluth. We did several Bradbury origi- 
nals: Fahrenheit 451 , The" October Country. 
Fred Pohi did a marvelous anthology of 
short stor.ies for us in succeeding volumes. 
Star Science Fiction. And we'd sell several 
hundred thousand a title. Not only was it a 
surprise, but also other publishers would 
try it and not be able to do it! I don't know 
why, I think they were not in sympathy with 
the writers or the books. They were thinking 
about bug-eyed monsters and space op- 
era. I thought there was a young, thoughtful 
audience for science ficron. and I was pub- 
lishing for that audience." 

That audience has grown at a steady 
rate of from 4 to 5 percent with each suc- 
ceeding year so that now Fred Pohl esti- 
mates. "About 2 million people in the United 
States regularly and willfully read science 
fiction. Worldwide it's probably three or four 
times that number; the Soviet Union. West- 
ern Europe, and Japan have .considerable. 
science-fiction audiences. Then there's a 
much larger number who read The An- 

dromeda Strain and The $6,000,000 Man 
without knowing that- they're reading sci- 
ence fiction." 

One thousand new paperback titles are 
published each year — reprints of hard- 
covers, reissues of older books, and 
paperback originals. Jove Books' sci- 
ence-fiction editor Adele Leone Hull says. 
"There's a commitment with publishers 
now — a feeling that science fiction is really 
booming — that encourages you to make 
certain science-fiction books into lead ti- 
tles, increase their distribution, and lot 
them break out of the science-fiction cate- 
gory. When it works — as it did with Frank 
Herbert's Dune — books have a chance to 
sell a million copies in ten years-. Most 
mass-market books don't have any backlist 
appeal at all — they make it big. and in nine 
days they're gone— but a science-fiction 
book that works can go on and on and on." 
Nancy Neiman. science-fiction editor for 
Avon Books, says that sales received a 
boost five or six yea/s ago, "when pub- 
lishers decided that it wasn't really a spe- 
cialist market but was a lot wider than 
they'd thought. Many, publishers began 
doing more books and printing more 
copies of them. An average soil of prnting 
nowadays is from 60.000 to 75.000 copies; 
a few years ago it would Have been 40.000. 
At the same time, sales haven't been hurt 
by the increase of titles; the more books on 
the market, the better the sales. Science- 
fiction readers are unique in being very 
aggressive; they look for new books. They 
cluster together at their conventions, talk- 
ing about their favorite lilies meeting the 
authors. It's a very involved kind of commu- 
nity, which doesn't seem to happen any- 
where else." 

What do these dedicated followers 
choose to read? Everything under— and 
around and beyond— the sun; a burgeon- 
ing array of writing encompassing a wide 
range of political, social, and sexual op- 
tions. A bookstore browser hunting through 
the rack space labeled science ficton (a 
rack space growing visibly larger each 
year) would be confronted with a kaleido- 
scope, a cornucopia, oi speculative writ- 
ing. Ray Bradbury's evocative tales, which 
somehow create a nostalgia for small-town 
America even as they describe the plains 
of Mars. J. G. Ballard's bleak, bizarre vi- 
sions of ominous day-alter-tomorrow fu- 
tures. Isaac Asimov's clever, oddly sexless 
jaunts to Art Deco planets. John Norman's 
S&M-drenched fantasies. The feminist 
ideology of Joanna Russ's The Female 
Man. The swashbuckling space operas of 
E. E. -'Doc" Smith. The -sly intellectual 
games of Philip J. Farmer. 

And. or course. George Lucas's and 
Stephen Spielberg's novsiizaiions of Star 
VJars and Crass Encounters. 

Right-wing, left-wing, liberated, sexist, 
mindless diversions, demanding fiction, 
sword-and-sorcery. or hard science — the 
shelves go on and on. offering something 
for almost every taste. 

Some writers are touchy about being in- 
cluded in the category, however diverse it 

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may be. Kurt Vonnegut. most of whose 
books have at leasl a couple of rocket ships 
and alien beings, has gone to some length 
io dissociate himself from the science-fic- 
tion crew. Harlan Ellison's public disclaim- 
ers have been noted. Even those stamped 
for all time as science -fiction masters are a 
bil uncomfortable with the label. Ray Brad- 
bury says. "We all want to be treated as 
individuals, as human beings who write 
idea stories. That's 'a much better way of 
putting it. isn't it?" 

One reason for being cagey about the 
whole thing is the disregard in which sci- 
ence ficlion has been held by much of the 
outside world since the days of the pulps. 
Even as everyone begins to discover the 
genre, the ouesiior persists; But is it litera- 

Simply asking can touch a raw nerve wilh 
some. A slightly tesly Jerry Pournelie. 
coauthor with Larry Niven of the perennially 
besl-seliing The Mote in God's Eye. asks. 
"Who's got the most influence on the world? 
People who write books that get a big stir 
for a little while and then vanish? That's the 
world of 'real' literature, right? Then there's 
poor old science fiction, that junky old 
rockel-ship shit, which comes out and 
slays in print forever. How many genera- 
tions Of people have read Robert Hein- 
lein — Roberl Heinlein. who has yet to pub- 
lish a book that hasn't sold over a million 
copies? When you consider thai he's writ- 
len about twenty-five or thirty books, (hat's 

really quite a lol of books, isn't ii? Would you 
say thai he might be- the most influential 
writer in the U.S.A.? It's certainly a deiend- 
able proposition. 

"Heinlein sa-d il ":any yea's ago: we're in 
the entertainment business. That does not 
mean you cannot write stories thai change 
the world. It is my goal to influence as many 
people as. I possibly can by getting them to 
plunk down money for my books. 

"I'm nol so convinced that we aren't the 
mainstream already, anyway," concludes 

Dan Wakefield, a mainstream novelist 
who enjoys reading science ficiion. agrees 
that the genre has been unfairly stig- 
matized. "1 avoided it for years because I 
assumed everything was many-legged 
monsters with different-colored eyes and 
things. But then I read the Foundation tril- 
ogy by Isaac Asimov. There's this incredibly 
great character called (he Mule, and once 
he took over, I wasn't worried about whether 
there were spaceships or anything I was 
too involved with the Mule. It's like any ter- 
rific story; it's the plot that matters, not the 
trappings. The person who I think is really 
great is Ursula K. LeGuin. She's as good as 
anybody writing anything, and the fact that 
she writes in this area doesn't prevent her 
from being a first-class fiction writer." 

Bob Silvcrberg is ohen referred to as one 
of the finest writers in all science fiction. He 
admits to giving some thought as to 
whether the genre] p'educes literature. "We 



"My true genius, of course, lies in surrounding 'ny-r-ii with talented people." 


all have that occasional doubt, and it's un- 
comtortable. To me. it's a branch of liiera- 
ture. a fantastic branch, and I see no point 
in diminishing it. even though I worry about 
it quietly. When Spenser wrote The Faerie 
Oueene and when Shakespeare wrote A 
Midsummer Night's Dream, they were' cre- 
ating literalure. although it took place in 
remote, fantastic worlds: so I don't think 
we're disqualified by the fact that what 
we're writing doesn't necessarily take 
place in the here and now." 

With some 2.000 science-fiction courses 
being taughl Io approximately 60,000 
high-school and college students around 
the Gountry. it would seem ihat Academia is 
agreeing with Silverberg. Dave Samuelson, 
a science-fiction critic and an instructor at 
Cal State Long Beach, explains why ap- 
proval took so long. "Whether something is 
labeled literature or not is partially a politi- 
cal decision, a decision based on taste, 
which has to do with socioeconomic class. 
The aristocratic or elite taste of previous 
ages has defined what is"literature' for our 
own time. 

"There was a thirty-to-fifty-year period in 
which the academic elite was totally op- 
posed to anylhing thai smacked of the in- 
gredients of science fiction — unless, like 
the novels of Huxley or Orwell, it said prac- 
tically unequivocally that science and 
technology were bad tor you. 

"If you ask me Io produce a Shakespeare 
from this genre, well, it can't be done. But at 
the same time, there are grounds on which 
some of our greal mainstream writers, es- 
pecially in the twentieth cenlury — people 
like Joyce. Eliot, Yeats — are failures. Joyce 
can't tell a slory! He's not interested in 
doing that, he's interested in how individual 
characters perceive their environment and 
relate to each other on the small scale — Ut- 
ile bits of things— and that's the taste of a 
small minority." 

H. Bruce Franklin's remarks complement 
Samuelson's. "The Academy complains 
thai people no longer read literature. 
People are reading literature; it's just differ- 
ent literalure from what the Academy and 
the critical establishment would care to 
have them read I 

"When there's a work that's clearly 
thought of as a masterpiece, the literary 
establishment wants to define it out of the 
science-fiction field: Eugene Zamiatin's We 
and all the books influenced by il — Brave 
New World, 1984. Anthony Burgess's 
novels, the whole anti-Utopian modern 
tradition. The leading playwrighf in the 
Soviet Union for quite a while. Vladimir 
Mayakovski. was a greal science-fiction 
writer, If the works are good, the establish- 
ment says they're not science liction! 

"Not only is science fiction literature, but ■ 
it is also one of the most imporiant forms of 
literature of our epoch. Even (he works that 
are not necessarily great on artistic 
grounds — Ihe films, the lelevision 
shows — deal with important areas of 
human experience. It's the one genre able 
to relate Ihe developments of science and 
technology and our sense of the future with 


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SPACE: the final, full-frontal frontier , . . the last hurrah ... to go where no man has ever 
gone before, the forbidden and yet insidiously alluring planel of NYMPHON in the sec- 
ond quadrant of PHI DELTA PUBIS, hard by the lumescenf moons of GLUTEON 
MAXIMUS, It was here fhat I said good-bye to an inlrepid friend, a great lady, whose 
heaving decks and smoldering afterburners had served me well— the Yenta Prize. 
peripatetic mistress of the cosmic seas. I beamed down . , down into the swirling. 
choking vapors that envelop NYMPHON. down lo the very floor of this curious planet 
where, unused to the dense, jellylike almosphere, I passed out 


I was unconscious (or 

some lime— I don't know 

how long. But when I next 

opened my eyes, I saw a 

flurry of breasts and hands 

... I saw bright cobalt eyes 

that bore into my brain and 

scar let- red mouths that 

oohed and aahed as my 

benevolent captors set 

about examining me in 

earnest. I responded by 

making a few quick 

observations of my own. 

They brandish whips, tor 

example, but wear smiles, 

they have hairless but 

elegantly plumed skulls, 

and, when aroused 

sexually, they give off the 

faint odor of apple 

blossoms. Otherwise, they 

are perfect, humanoid 

facsimiles and deserve our 

uncompromising respect 

And although the 

possibilities of verbal 

communication may be 

remote, one seems to 

sense exactly what these 

charming creatures have 

In mind anyway. 




NYMPHON was well named, 
and my eager captor- 
companions lost little time 
living up to its otherworldly 
reputation. At first, they merely 
prodded and pinched, testing 
my reactions, fingering 
different parts of my body, 
probing the nether regions, 
feeling it . . . weighing it in the 
moist palms of their hands . . . 
passing it playfully from one 
to the other and punctuating 
each movement with little 
gulps of appreciation. 


Emboldened by Iheir 
Close encounter wilh my 
alien but very responsive 
member, they fell upon me 
with silken whips . . . wilh 
eyes ablaze and mouths 
adrooi. Was I biting oft 
more than I could chew? 
Had I come to the end, 
however sweet, of some 
voluptuous dream? Was I 
trekking up the wrong star? 


Inevitably, each 
proved lobe 
more delicious 
lhan the other. 
I had them 
both, again and 
again, jointly 
and separately. 
And the more 
orgasms I 
sustained, the 
stronger I 



It was uncanny, as if sex 

were the very life force of 

this improbable world. 

as if . by geometric 

progression, each sexual 

encounter suffused new 

dimensions of power 

into my system. Ahhh. 

NYMPHON. forbidden but 

insidiously alluring, third 

planet in the second 
quadrant of PHI DELTA 
PUBIS, hard by the 
distended moons of 
much I shall miss thee. 
How vivid the dream.. . 
No joy is forever, no 
pleasure supreme . . . Jus' 
keep on trekkin'.CH — ft 




is barring Ihe w 
Kumina gangs they were called 
terrors of the streets, kumi na b 
Swahili prefix lhati 

. rcsponoii'd as though to the 
'.-ui.'i\inci ot lemons He didn't 



jpermarket, the former pub that 


Mm> l '»i ' :wfi i' .»v.>t:w , ' ' ' i t ' :i 


suppose so. with that gar _ 

for her age The National Health 
doctors blamed it on Yenethlia, a 
substance prescribed for the easing of 


i; ii.'.atr- rig. loEiinincj became cr 
' thina. Bev said: "If vou Hamaki Mild, adi 

pound notes, five dec! 
of [he stone pieces). He pocketed all 

old entry. Poor kid. The Irwins 
1 the tenth tl 

not working. Bevrang 

ihe janitor's bell. Mr. Withers came out 
chewing, marmalade on his chin. He 
chewed still, looking at the bloodied boy. 

"You heard nothing?'' said Bev. "Are the 
I r wins in?" 

"No," said Mr. Withers. "To both." 

"Saw nothing on your screens?" 

"The screens is not working." 

Bev climbed to the third floor, It didn't do, 
these days, to be too compassionate. You 
could spend all day and night being com- 
passionate to the victims of street, hallway, 
and apartment assault. Compassion 
began at home. He came to his own apart- 
ment, 3B. Home. It was no good ringing, 
not with little Bessie. Bessie could not man- 
age the complicated multilocks. Bev gave 
his name to a dim red eye on a wall panel. 
The device responded to his voiceprint, 
and, from a slot, his key bunch came jan- 
gling into his hand. It took him forty sec- 
onds to open up. 

Bessie sat wide legged on the floor in 
front of the telly She wore, Bev saw, no 
garment under her one-piece school frock. 
He sighed. She's been masturbating, no 
doubt, to some beefcake image on the 
screen. The screen was now flashing, 
bleating, and exploding with a kid's car- 
toon film — lethal violence but nobody get- 
ting really hurt, let alone dying. The six- 
year-old Porson kid on the twelfth floor, hav- 
ing seen Chickweed the Wonder jump from 
a hundred-and-twenty-floor skyscraper 
roof without damage, had, in smiling confi- 
dence, leapt down the stairwell. That had 
been a year ago; the Porsons had got over 
it; they had not even got rid of their telly. 

"Did you telephone the hospital?" Bev 
said, carefully. 

"What?" Her eyes didn't move from the 
jerking images. 

"The hospital. Where your mother is Did 
you telephone?" 

"Not working. " 

"What is not working 9 " he asked pa- 
tiently. "Our telephone? The hospital ex- 

"Not working," she said, and her mouth 
opened in weak, silly joy as a mouse in a hat 
was crushed with a steam hammer and 
lived to squeak vengeance. "I'm hungry," 
she added. 

Bev went to the telephone in the little 
hallway. He dialed 359-1111 ("I ill": that was 
how one remembered the hospital number; 
the prefix was, of course, a different mat- 
ter). A tapevox courteously responded. It 
said: "This is Hospital Control. At Brentford 
General salvage and evacuation are still 
proceeding. No individual inquiries may be 
dealt, with for at least twenty-four hours. 
This is Hospital C " 

His heart had hardly settled from its triple 
agitation. The balletic beating, the Irwin 
boy the enforced climb. Now it thumped 
viciously. He dashed to the telly and began 
to search the channels. Bessie wailed; she 
beat his ankles with her fists. He got the 
news. A man with little chin and much hair 
was saying, against a background of 

blown-up flames: " is taking a serious 

view of the matter It is believed that the fire 

was started by irresponsible elements who 
have not yet been identified, though Scot- 
land Yard is already at work on the following 
up of what is described as significant 
dues. It is felt that deliberate advantage 
was taken of the firemen's strike, now in its 
third week, and of the sympathetic strike 
that broke out yesterday at army barracks 
in the London area In the absence of pro- 
fessional antipyro services, said Mr. Hali- 
fax, minister of public safety, citizens must 
be on the lookout for further acts of wanton 
incendiarism and, at the same time, should 
acquaint themselves with the fire precau- 
tion information made available by their 
communication services." 

Bev, sobbing Oh my God, was out of that 
room and fumbling with the multilocks 
while the announcer was saying, "Soc- 
cer—tonight's fixtures," and Bessie, as 
ever, slow on the uptake, was wailing before 
switching back to her cartoon. An old 
Popeye was just coming on. She was con- 
tent. And then she remembered her 

The Arabs owned 

Al-Dorchesters, Al-Klaridges, 

Al-Browns, various 

AI-Hiltons,and Al-ldayinns. 

They owned things 

that people did not even 

know they owned. 

hunger. But Bev was out of the apartment 
before her complaints grew loud. 

He stumbled downstairs, sobbing. The 
Irwin boy, still unconscious, lay waiting for 
an ambulance. Mr. Withers was probably 
back at lunch. Bev ran to Chiswick High 
Street. He saw no taxis. He saw a bus, 
Brentford bound, snarled up in the traffic. 
He boarded it and then remembered he 
had no money for his fare. To hell; the shock 
of the sight of the burning sky, his own 
distress, were not these payment enough? 
They proved to be as the bus crawled on. 
The black conductor said: "You look pretty 
sick, man. Okay, you pay nothertime.'' 

And then he was there, trying to push 
through the police, for the police were not at 
present on strike, and shouting, "My wife, 
my wife, it's my wife, blast you." The sky 
was puce, damson, gamboge, primrose, 
daffodil, smoke, flinders of destruction 
going up like thin, black angels, and the 
heat was a huge, shouldering bully. A few 
windows were square eyes empty of all but 
flame, sad, at length sadly collapsing. 
There were a couple of collapsing doctors 
in singed surgical coats. Beds and stretch- 
ers were being loaded onto floats borrowed 
from the nearby brewery. "My wife," cried 

Bev. "Mrs. Jones. Ellen, Ward 4C." The doc- 
tors shook their heads as if shaking were 
physically painful. "You," cried Bev to an 
old woman, gray hair burned off, slackly 
naked under a blanket, "you know me; you 
know my wife." 

"Don't let them get away with it," 
breathed a known voice. 

"Oh, my God. Ellie, Ellie." Bev knelt to the 
stretcher that awaited loading. His wife and 
not his wife. There were parts of the body 
reluctant to be combusted, but they were 
mostly bone. He was on his knees beside 
her and then, desperately sobbing, lying 
across her, seeking to embrace, picking up 
a handful of scorched skin and, under it, 
cooked meat. She could not feel anything 
now But that had been her voice. The last 
thing she said had not been: "Love, I love, 
look after Bessie, God, what a waste, we'll 

meet." It had been: "Don't let them " 

"My dear poor beloved," he sobbed. 

North Sea Oil had been mortgaged to the 
Arabs for a government loan when the In- 
ternational Monetary Fund had closed its 
cashboxes to Britain for the last time, and 
the loan, had been called in and the 
mortgage foreclosed, and the crescent 
moon banners waved from the chilly der- 
ricks. The Arabs were in Britain to stay. They 
owned Al-Dorchesters, Al-Klaridges, Al- 
Browns, various Al-Hiltons and Al-ldayinns, 
with soft drinks in the bars and no bacon for 
breakfast. They owned things that people 
did not even know they owned, including 
distilleries and breweries. 

Like good Muslims, the British millers 
who produced what Britain called flour — a 
fine white dust with carcinogens but little 
nutritive content— struck at sunset, not at 
dawn. At dawn on Christmas Eve there was 
no bread, for the bakers locked the doors 
on their flour stocks and also went on strike. 
The confectionary workers were on strike, 
too. Housewives, who were not yet union- 
ized, grew angry when they found no 
loaves or cakes around and rioted in the 
High Streets. The Wages Board responded 
at three in the afternoon by promising fa- 
vorable consideration of the millers' de- 
mands for triple-time pay for night work, 
and the strikes were ended half an hour 
before the Christmas holidays were due to 
start for regular day workers so that all 
could toast the festive season in the boss's 
time.There was still no bread for Christmas. 

Bev, shoulders straight, chest out, legs 
like water, reported for duty as usual at 
eight in the morning at Penn's Chocolate 
Works. There were pickets waiting for him. 
There were policemen, chewing their 
straps. The police, though reluctantly, 
grabbed a man who threw a small stone at 
Bev, even though he had missed. 

"Whose side are you bloody rozzers on?" 
went the shout. 

"You know the law as well as what I do," 
said the sergeant unhappily A van from 
Thames Television drew up. Bev waited. 
His act would have no validity unless it was 
available for the world to witness. This was 
the new way. It's Really Real when it's Seen 













PAGE 127 


^nd I remember when I thought the wflofe lucking thing was a mask." 



Mechanical men are 
here, demanding equal 


In the mid-1950s robot 
researchers at Johns 
Hopkins University developed 
a peripatetic little machine lhat 
they called Ferdinand. He 
looked tike a garbage can 
on wheels, and he was 
constantly on the lookout lor 
elecirical outlets to feed his 
ravenous batteries. To those 
who knew Ferdinand well, it 
was not surprising to find 
him trundling through the 
physical-engineering lab at 
Hopkins, in quest of a socket 
for a fast-food fix. 

It is said that one fateful 
night in 1956, an anxious 
young watchman, his head full 
of terrifying science-fiction 
scenarios, came upon Ihis 
perambulating piece of 
primitive technology while 
Ferdinand was calmly 
searching out a midnight 
snack of watts and volts. The 
watchman ordered the robot 
to halt: the monomaniacal 
machine rolled on. The man 
plugged the tin can full ot 
lead, rupturing the battery 
pack, "killing" Ferdinand 


Ferdinand was no Einstein. The greaiest 
robot of his time, he was less sentient than 
an earthworm. He could move, but only on 
a level surface. Unable to back up, Ferd 
would frequently run himself into a corner 
and get stuck, draining his juice until 
someone rescued him. He was deaf to 
human commands and blind to the exis- 
tence of everyone and everything except 
wall sockets. 

Robot research has progressed consid- 
erably since the days of the Model T. Ferd. 
There are robots at work on assembly lines 
inDetroit; robot- computers that play chess, 
draw pictures, and balance checkbooks; 
robotic devices that direct traffic, mow 
lawns, deliver mail, and explore the surface 
M the moon. 

But most robotic scientists agree that it 
will be a long, long time before anything like 
C-3PO will be serving coffee and making 
=mall talk at the local greasy spoon. Dr. Tom 
3inford, leader of the robotics group at 
Stanford University, describes today's typi- 
cal robot, industrial variety in this way: 
"Imagine a blind man with one arm tied 
behind his back, the two fingers on his 
good hand numbed with novocaine. Fur- 
thermore, imagine that the man himself has 
less brainpower than a trained monkey. 
That should give you a good picture of what 
today's industrial robots are like." 

In a strict sense, the devices that are 
called robots today are not much more than 

highly sophisticated machines. As Robert 
Malone. author of The Robot Book, puts it. 
"If a machine is really going to be consid- 
ered a robot, it has to be able to change its 
behavior in relation to its environment." Dr. 
Leonard Fredman of the Jet Propulsion 
Labs amplifies: "A robot is a sensitive ma- 
chine. It should have sensors to interpret 
what the state of the environment is; com- 
puting power for problem solving, decision 
making, and control; and effectors — arms, 
wheels, and legs — in order to accomplish 
commanded goals," 

So the creation of truly humanoid robots 
requires advanced technology in at least 
three areas — sensors, brain, and effectors. 
A robot worthy of the name has to sense 
what's going on around it, figure out 
do, and then be able to do it. Most re- 
searchers agree that really sophisticated 
robots will not be perfected for at least 
twenty or thirty years. 

But by the year 2001, say. roboticists may 
well be capable of building a machine that 
could, for example, play Ping-Pong. It 
would have binocular, stereo vision en- 
abling it to see in depth and interpret pre- 
cisely the position, spin, and speed of the 
oncoming ball. All these data would be fed 
to its on-board computer, which would 
analyze the facts and order the correct re- 
sponse (within a few billionths of a second). 
Equipped with the proper effectors, the 
robot would move laterally, backward, or 
forward to a precisely computed spot. The 


paddle and the arm would be articulated to 
allow the robot to hit the ball with the correct 
spin; the robot would be equipped with a 
sensor capable ot regulating the pressure 
exerted for slams and soft returns. It might 
come in two models: the cheaper version, 
capable of playing at three prepro- 
grammed levels of competition — beginner, 
intermediate, and Chinese; and the luxury 
model, capable of playing up to the level of 
the competition and equipped with a 
voice-generating mechanism that would 
announce the score. Although very adept 
at its one game, this particular robot would 
be a terrible conversationalist and a dead- 
weight on a volleyball court. 

The point is that the robots of the near 
future will be specialists — their sensors, 
brains, and effectors designed to do only 
one job. The Ping-Pong robot, for instance., 
wouldn't be able to recognize faces or hear 
or trot up the stairs or open a beer can. In 
other words, as an all-around athlete and 
survival machine, the robot of the next 
twenty or thirty years will be far less soptiis- 
ticated and versatile than its creator, the 
adaptive superape — man. 

The year of Ferdinand's genesis (and 
demise) — 1956 — was a big year for robots. 
The star of one of the year's hit movies, 
Forbidden Planet, was one Robby the 
Robot, a space age alchemist that could 
think fast on his mechanical feet and had a 
penchant for cracking wise. Until R2D2 
and C-3PO came along. Robby reigned as 
the most famous reelworld robot. 

Nineteen fifty-six was also the year that 
Joseph F Engelberger, visionary capitalist 
and father of the industrial robot, founded a 
company called Unimation, Inc. Armed 
with the patent applications of George De- 
vol. Engelberger decided that he could 
make money by manufacturing automated 
industrial workers. Sixteen years and $12 
million later, he showed his first profit. Today 
industrial robots are a growth industry. Un- 
imation now grosses between $30 million 
and $40 million a year, and Engelberger 
predicts a potential yearly gross of $120 
billion. Clearly, there is a cauldron of 
platinum at the end of the robotics rainbow. 

Metropolis, Fritz Lang's classic cinemat- 
ic vision of technology gone berserk, pic- 
tures the workers of the future as slaves, 
shackled to unceasing and unerring ma- 
chines. The technological revolution cur- 
rently at hand promises a far more benign 
fate for tomorrow's factory workers. Dr. 
Charles Rosen, a robotics pioneer for more 
than fifteen years and the head of artifi- 
cial-intelligence research at Stanford Re- 
search International, foresees that the fac- 
tory will be positively revolutionized by the 
introduction of industrial robots: "You'll find 
the factory a new place to work in. All the 
tedious jobs kicking around from the be- 
ginning of the Industrial Revolution can be 
eliminated. People can be more skilled and 
more satisfied in what they're doing. They'll 
be more in control." 

Robot is Czech for "worker. " Today robots 
do spot and arc welding and work where 


British taste American price: 
The two sides of Burnetts 

White Satin Gin 

Of all the gins distilled in America, only Burnett's uses an 
imported Coffey still. The same kind of still that's used in Britain. That's 
xe so A 



Rather than openly 
searching for the truth about 

to keep the facts from 

the public and to humiliate and 

discredit UFO witnesses. 


and confirmed on radar, flying in restricted 
air space above Washington, D.C. Jet in- 
terceptors chased I hem and in turn were 
chased by them in a harrowing aerial game 
of tag. 

Reports of UFO encounters have been 
made not only by ordinary peopfe but also 
by trained pilots, scientists, and engineers. 
The most credible reports agree on several 
points. UFOs seen in daylight are metallic 
objects, often oval-shaped with a dome on 
top. They can fly at amazing speeds. They 
can stop on a dime, accelerate from a 
standstill to enormous velocity in an instant. 
execute sudden right-angle turns at high 
speed, and hover indefinitely with no visi- 
ble mechanism for overcoming the earth's 
gravity. They do not have wings, props, or 
jet engines. At night, when they're often 
seen as brilliant balls of light, they can "turn 
off" at will and seem to disappear, becom- 
ing invisible to Ihe eye and yel still appear- 
ing on radar scopes. Their behavior defies 
every known scientific principle. 

In the face of the evidence and the belief 
of a growing number of scientists that 
UFOs are a very real phenomenon and 
should be investigated, our government 
says that they do not exist. And it holds that 
what does not exist is so dangerous to the 
American psyche that it should not be dis- 
cussed publicly — a Pentagon regulation 
promulgated in 1953, when the CIA de- 
cided that UFOs were a serious threat to 

national security, states that "any person" 
who discloses the contents of an official 
UFO reporl is subject to prosecution and 
imprisonment for ten years. That regulation 
is still in effect. 

As far as we know nobody has ever been 
prosecuted for discussing UFO reports. 
But the existence of that legal weapon of 
intimidation is just one piece of evidence for 
what Dr. J Allen Hynek, who was UFO con- 
sultant for the air force for almost twenty 
years and now heads the Center lor UFO 
Studies in Evanston, III., calls a "cosmic 

"My opinion is that certain parts of the 
government do know more than what 
they've told the public," Dr. Hynek says. 

Even Jimmy Carter, when he was running 
for the presidency in 1976, said that he 
thought the government was being too se- 
cretive with UFO files. He once saw a "shiny 
and saucer-shaped" UFO, Carter told re- 
porters. And he promised. "If I become 
president. I'll make every piece of informa- 
tion the country has about UFOs available 
to the public and to the scientists." Nothing 
of Ihe sort has happened, of course. No 
matter what candidate Carter promised. 
President Carter has stopped talking about 
his sighting. The White House staff is reluc- 
tant to answer questions about it. except to 
claim that Carter has ordered the National 
Space and Aeronautics Administration to 
be "open and candid" with Ihe public about 

i-ittle. 3>Vts 

bicycle seats 

new |l,00 

USED 9S-00 



NASA, however, says thai it has nothing 
to be candid about. "We're not hiding any- 
thing." says Robert Frosch, director of the 
space agency. "We don't take UFOs seri- 
ously." says Harold Brown, Carter's de- 
fense secretary The air force, despite its 
regulation ordering military personnel to 
report UFOs and lo keep them secret from 
the public, claims that it stopped investigat- 
ing them in 1969 and that it discourages 
ordinary citizens from reporting UFO sight- 
ings to air force bases. The CIA maintains 
that it lost interest in 1953, which was the 
year a CIA-sponsored panel of scientists 
looked into the UFO phenomenon and is- 
sued a report that followed CIA dogma — 
UFOs should be debunked because the 
periodic "flaps" over them could be used to 
clog military and intelligence communica- 
tions channels and leave us vulnerable to 
Soviet sneak attack. 

UFO investigators are certain that the air 
force and government intelligence agen- 
cies — including the CIA — continue to in- 
vestigate UFOs. There is some evidence 
proving that the CIA is still involved in UFO 
research. In responding to requests for 
UFO documents under the Freedom of In- 
formation Act. the CIA has permitted a few 
things to be disclosed. Among them are 
reports that show its operatives were inves- 
tigating UFOs long after 1953 and were 
warning people who made sightings not to 
discuss them publicly And Henry Roth- 
blatt. a New York City criminal lawyer who is 
suing the CIA on behalf of a private UFO 
research organization, says that he has 
"documented evidence that the CIA col- 
lects and stores facts about UFOs. which 
appears to be contrary to their public posi- 
tion — that UFOs are not worth investigat- 

"We further believe," Rothblatt adds, 
"that we have documented evidence prov- 
ing the CIA has an ongoing investigation 
and has covered it up." 

You have to wonder how badly the CIA 
was spooked when several of its agents 
were taunted by a UFO back in 1959. Lt. 
Col Robert Friend heard some of the de- 
tails directly from the intelligence agents 
involved. At the time Friend was head of 
Project Blue Book, the air force's unit that 
was created to collect UFO reports and 
investigate the most promising of them. 

According to a memo that Friend wrote at 
the time and is still in Blue Book files two 
naval-intelligence agents were sent to 
interview a woman who lived in Maine and 
claimed to be in contacl with the occupants 
of a UFO. She made a contact for the 
agents, falling into a trance and writing 
what the UFO commander was telling her 
telepathically. getting intelligent answers to 
very technical questions the agents were 
asking her. During her trance the woman 
wrote that the UFO commander wished to 
contact one of the questioners directly, and 
one of the intelligence agents went into a 
trance and also began writing out mes- 

Friend said in a recent interview: "After 


Ihey got back io Washington, they lotd the 
CIA about it. and a controlled experiment 
was set up at CIA headquarters. There 
were six witnesses in the room. This fellow 
who went into a trance in Maine attempted 
another contact and was again successful. 
The men who were there, who were a lot 
better trained for that sort of thing, asked 
him certain kinds of questions, and they 
were getting answers about where the UFO 
people were from and why they were 
exploring our planet. And at some point the 
intelligence fellows said. 'Hey, wait, we 
need something that's a little more concrete 
.in the way of proof.' So the answer came in. 
'You want proof? Go to the window and take 
a look out, and you'll see proof.' 

"So these fellows. CIA and naval- 
intelligence agents, went to the window 
and looked out. And they saw a spacecraft 
hovering outside. It really shook them up." 

At the same time that the agents saw the 
UFO — which sped away in a few mo- 
ments—radar at Washington National Air- 
port was completely blocked out in the di- 
rection of the sighting, according to Blue 
Book records. That bizarre incident should 
have been investigated further. Friend 
says If it was, the details of that investiga- 
tion are hidden in CIA files. Only Friend's 
unofficial memo survives as a record. 

The charge of suppression made by 
UFO investigators is rather compelling be- 
cause very credible and highly trained men 
have begun to talk about their experiences 
and about the fact that evidence of those 
experiences vanishes into some federal 
agency's top-secret files. Gordon Cooper 
says the film that he knows was taken of a 
UFO landing near the astronauts' training 
base in California has disappeared some- 
where within official vaults. Astronaut 
James A. McDivitt, who saw and filmed a 
metallic, cylindrical-shaped object while 
he was aboard Gemini IV in June 1965. 
says that the pictures released by NASA 
"were not anything like what I had seen." In 
interviews McDivitt makes it clear that what 
NASA showed him and released to the pub- 
lic were not the photos he took; the actual 
photos have been squirreled away. 

And Mrs. Betty Hill relates a more recent 
incident. Mrs. Hill is the woman whose re- 
port that both she and her husband were 
abducted by humanlike men in a UFO is 
believed by some of the most cynical inves- 
tigators because independent evidence 
substantiates her claim. Late last year her 

I home was broken into, and files of her con- 

tinuing UFO investigations were stolen. 
Police told her that the burglar alarm pro- 
tecting her home had been "burned out 
and short-circuited by sophisticated pro- 
fessional equipment." Only her UFO files 
were missing. 

If there is a suppression of hard evi- 
dence, as attorney Rothblatt charges, a 
charge to which Colonel Friend also sub- 
scribes — a "cosmic Watergate" in Dr. 
Hynek's words — the reasons for it can be 
pieced together. Enough documents have 
been declassified to make it clear that the 
suppression was orchestrated by the CIA 

and other intelligence agencies in 1952. 
during the Cold War scare And it is being 
continued by those agencies, by NASA. 
and. in spite of his promise, by President 

The rash of sightings that followed the 
first flying-saucer sighting in 1947 was se- 
cretly investigated by the air force — mostly 
because its own pilots, radar operators, 
and even rocket experts and physicists in- 
volved in our atom bomb project were also 
sighting silvery disks that were not aircraft 
and did not behave in any normal aerody- 
namic manner. These military and scientific 
witnesses could not be ignored. In a near 
panic, our intelligence agencies first de- 
manded the answer to one question: were 
the Russians testing some new weapon? 
The spooks decided that it wasn't possible. 
But they wanted to know what these damn 
things were. So the commanding general 
of what was then the army air forces asked 
for a full report on these strange objects 
from Lt. Gen. Nathan F Twining, whose 
command included the technical division 
of air force intelligence. 

In a dispatch dated September -23, 1947, 
Twining recommended that a secret air 
force agency be set up to conduct a full 
investigation of the UFOs. His reasons: 
"The phenomenon reported is something 
real and not imaginary or fictitious," and 
"the reported operating characteristics 
lend belief to the possibility that some of the 

objects are controlled either manually, au- 
tomatically, or remotely." 

Project Sign was set up to investigate 
UFOs. Sign later became Grudge and then 
finally Project Blue Book. But instead of 
investigating and informing the public of 
its findings, the air force turned its UFO 
agency into a massive public-relations ma- 
chine whose aim was to con the public into 
believing that all reported UFOs could be 
explained as natural phenomena, halluci- 
nations, or hoaxes. It became standard 
practice to warn military personnel who 
had sighted UFOs that, as several Blue 
Book reports put it. "any information con- 
cerning the objects was SECRET." The se- 
crecy stamp guaranteed that the best evi- 
dence concerning unidentified flying ob- 
jects, from military and scientific witnesses, 
would not be released publicly. 

The American public, confronted with 
periodic news stories about UFO sightings, 
didn't buy the air force con job. And the CIA 
and other intelligence agencies, studying 
those secret reports, worried over them. At 
a meeting of intelligence officials in the 
spring of 1952. the head of what by then 
was named Blue Book was told that it was 
the considered opinion of intelligence 
analysts that UFOs could be extraterres- 
trial. They ordered Blue Book to collect more 
information — of sufficient value for scien- 
tists to analyze, they hoped — and to keep it 
all classified 

"Don't let him intimidate you with any of these prelight publicity stunts. " 

A month after that meeting, the intelli- 
gence agencies were badly shaken up by 
a "squadron" ol UFO.s that [lew into re- 
stricted air space above the White House, 
Penlagon, and CIA headquarters. The 
flyby began a little before midnight on July 
19, 1952, when a group of UFOs appeared 
on radar. The objects moved at about 100 
m.p.h. at first and then zoomed off at what 
radar experts called "fantastic speeds up 
to 7,000 m.p.h.," beyond man's technology. 
F-94 jets were sent up to intercept the ob- 
jects and were vectored to the targets' posi- 
tion by radar operators. When the jets 
neared, the objects vanished. Simulta- 
neously, people on the ground — including 
radar operators and military officials who 
had gone out to look — saw strange lights 
making erratic maneuvers. The UFO "fiap" 
lasted about five hours. 

The following weekend Washington area 
radar picked up another group of UFOs at 
10:30 pm. Jet fighters were again scram- 
bled in order to intercept Ihe objects, and 
again the UFOs disappeared — only to 
show up in sightings over Virginia. The lone 
jet fighter available to Langley air base was 
ordered to intercept. The pilot saw bright, 
rotating lights with alternating colors. As he 
approached them, the objects vanished 
"like somebody turned off a light bulb. 1 ' But 
they were still there; though invisible, the 
pilot was able to gel a radar lock on one of 
the UFOs for a few minules. but he broke 
contact because he was running low on 

The UFOs reappeared over Washington, 
and jets were once more scrambled. This 
time the objects didn't go dark. Each time 
the pilots got close enough for good visual 
observation, the UFOs sped off at unbe- 
lievable speeds. And then they would re- 
turn to play tag, dashing toward the jets on 
a collision course and veering away The 
tag game ended when the jets ran low on 
fuel and had to return to base. 

Over the next few days the phones at the 
Pentagon and nearby air force bases were 
completely tied up with calls about the 
UFOs. And intelligence agencies began to 
worry that communications at the country's 
military centers could be jammed by curi- 
ous and frightened citizens. The decision 
was made to try to eliminate all reports 
about UFOs and to tranquiiize the public. 
The CIA took on the job of slamming the lid 
into place, a policy of secrecy that con- 
tinues to this day. 

The device used by the CIA was its 
sponsoring of a "scientific panel" whose 
results it dictated. It has become known as 
the Robertson panel, after its CIA-ap- 
pointed chairman, Dr H. P. Robertson, who 
is an expert in mathematics, cosmology, 
and relativity and was a CIA-classified 
employee. On the panel were four other 
scientists, three of them connected with the 
defense establishment, all with CIA clear- 

The Robertson panel met over a period 
of five days for a total of only twelve hours. II 
watched several brief films of UFOs caught 
in flight, read and discussed a few UFO 

sighting reports, and suem r'.uchof its time 
listening to lectures by members of the CIA 
and other intelligence agencies, who 
briefed the panel about the dangers of 
UFO flaps and suggested solutions to the 

And the panel came up with a report that 
was precisely what the CIA wanted. UFOs 
were not a direct threat to national security, 
it said, but the reports about "these 
phenomena do, in these parlous times, re- 
sult in a threat to the orderly functioning of 
the body politic." UFO reports could clog 
military and intelligence channels and 
could make the public easy prey to "possi- 
ble enemy psycholog-cal warfare" by cul- 
tivating a "morbid national psychology in 
which skillful hostile propaganda could in- 
duce hysterical behavior and harmful dis- 
trust of duly constituted authority." The UFO 
reports, not the UFOs themselves, were the 

The Robertson panel's classified report 
was designed to influence all levels of gov- 

A Pentagon regulation 

states that any 

person who discloses the 

contents of an 

official UFO report is subject 

to prosecution. 

ernment up to the president, to set official 
policy. It recommended that Project Blue 
Book, in effect, lie to the public about the 
reality of UFOs. It suggested surveillance 
over two private UFO investigation groups 
as potential threats to national security And 
it suggested a public-education program 
that would train us not to believe in UFOs 
and would "debunk" them. 

Evidence that the CIA dictated the find- 
ings and the recommendations of the panel 
can be seen in the minutes of its meetings, 
which, surprisingly were declassified and 
released years later in still another govern- 
ment attempt to con the public. The CIA 
scientists didn't even write their final report 
until intelligence agencies approved the 
rough draft. 

Dr Hynek, who at that time was himself 
skeptical about UFOs. was an associate 
panel member but was invited only to 
select meetings. He says today lhat "the 
scientists met under the guise of a sym- 
posium to review Ihe physical nature of 
UFOs," but "the true purpose was fo 'de- 
fuse' a potentially explosive situation from 
the standpoint of national security." 

A few months after the Robertson panel 
report had been circulated through the 

government, the air force issued its direc- 
tive Ihreatening prosecution and impris- 
onment of anybody discussing official UFO 
reports publicly. 

Although the CIA set the policy of se- 
crecy and suppression back in 1952, the 
UFOs didn't get the message. Over the 
following decade the sightings,, reports, 
and publicity refused to diminish. Finally, in 
1966. after a series of sensational sightings 
and a great deal of media pressure. Con- 
gress for the first time held an open hearing 
on UFOs. Dr. Hynek warned the committee 
lhat maintaining the official line that all 
UFOs were natural phenomena or hoaxes 
"may turn out to be a roadblock in the pur- 
suit of research endeavors," and he pro- 
posed that a civilian panel of scientists be 
established to investigate the UFO 
phenomenon. The congressmen practi- 
cally ordered the Pentagon to do so, and 
the result was what has come to be known 
as the Condon Report. 

Dr. Edward U. Condon, an internationally 
known physicist and a former head of the 
Bureau of Standards, with the proper politi- 
cal credentials, was chosen to head a 
$500,000 "scientific" study of UFOs, He 
quickly made his aims clear. "We must give 
the public a better understanding of ordi- 
nary phenomena, which, if recognized at 
once, would reduce the number of UFO 
reports," he said even before the project 
got under way. And the project coordinator 
wrote in a memo that "the trick would be" for 
the investigators to convince the public that 
the committee's work was "a totally objec- 
tive study," while at the same time stressing 
Ihe "psychology" of people who report 
UFOs so that "the scientific community 
would quickly get the message" that those 
people were crackpots. 

After two years of study, Condon con- 
cluded that UFOs don't really exist and that 
the government and scientists shouldn't 
waste time investigating the objects. The 
media and the scientific establishment ac- 
cepted these conclusions, and the intelli- 
gence agencies once more were grateful 
that the subject has been "defused." 

Yet the text of the 900-page report dis- 
putes Dr. Condon's findings. A full 30 per- 
cent of all the cases the committee studied, 
including several astronaut sightings, can't 
be explained by any known phenomenon 
and are called "unidentified" in the report. 
And a number of cases that project inves- 
tigators claimed had been caused by "nat- 
ural phenomena" turn out to be absolute 
distortions. The most laughable example is 
a group of UFOs that had been sighted by 
the crew of a commercial airliner and con- 
firmed by radar by a jet interceptor, The 
Condon Report, after straining for and finally 
dismissing several rarional hypotheses for 
a UFO seen by experienced fliers and on 
radar, still refused to concede that it could 
not be identified. The report attributes the 
sighting to what can only be called a mira- 
cle; it said: "This unusual sighting should 
therefore be assigned to the category of 
some almost certainly natural phenome- 
non, which is so rare that it apparently has 

never been reported before or since. " 

Once more, (he scientific establishment 
gave military and inteltigence agencies 
precisely what they wanted. The air force 
ended Project Blue Book and said that it 
was no longer interested in collecting UFO 
information, while it continued to require 
military personnel to report all sightings on 
special forms and to obey the regulation 
commanding secrecy. On the surface, the 
government was out of the UFO business, 
but it continues to amass and suppress 
UFO reports. 

One of the more striking things about the 
years from the first saucer sighting in 1947 
to- the termination of Project Blue Book in 
1969 is that throughout the period the sci- 
entific establishment helped the govern- 
ment in its efforts to denigrate the UFO 
reports and suppress the evidence con- 
tained within those reports. From the very 
first public reports, physicists and as- 
tronomers leaped forward with "logical, 
scientific" explanations of phenomena they 
didn't personally investigate and test, and 
with rather unscientific remarks about the 
mental and emotional condition of anyone 
who dared report a sighting. The entire sub- 
ject of UFOs and of the people who re- 
ported them was held up to ridicule, in 
some cases by scientists who were paid 
consultants to military and intelligence 
agencies. Ridicule was such a terribly ef- 
fective weapon in stifling UFO reports from 

observers whose evidence would be most 
highly valued that even scientists who had 
seen objects they couldn't rationally ex- 
plain, would not publicly state that the UFO 
phenomenon was a legitimate line ol scien- 
tific inquiry, although some of them be- 
lieved it was. 

("That's one of the reasons why I set up 
the Center for UFO Studies," Hynek says, 
"to give people a place to report their sight- 
ings, be guaranteed anonymity if they want 
it. and not fear ridicule." Because he and 
his professional staff are seeking patterns 
of characteristic UFO behavior that might 
eventually help explain the objects, Hynek 
welcomes calls to the center. Dial 312-491- 
1666. A computer bank at the center con- 
tains more than 50,000 UFO reports, and 
they come in weekly.) 

Some scientists continue to jeer at the 
thought of UFO research, but the persis- 
tence of the sightings and the mounting 
evidence that they are in some way real has 
caused a large number of scientists to 
abandon what Hynek calls the "it-can't-be;- 
therefore-it-isn't approach." A survey of 
2,611 members of the American Astronom- 
ical Society — astronomers, who are gen- 
erally more cautious than most other scien- 
tists—shows that 53 percent of fhose who 
responded believe that UFOs "certainly" or 
"probably" deserve further scientific re- 
search. Only 20 percent were completely 
negative, and most of those surveyed were 



"That? Oh, it's just a pet theory of mine. " 


older astronomers, sixty and above. 

The debunkers among scientists have 
always asked why astronomers aren't sight- 
ing these things. The debunkers have also 
said that if astronomers saw truly unidenti- 
fiable objects in the skies. UFOs would be 
more believable. Well, 4 percent of the as- 
tronomers, who are probably the most ca- 
pable among us of finding rational explana- 
tions for unusual flying objects, reported 
that they had seen UFOs which they could 
not explain scientifically, no matter how 
hard they tried. 

But the fear of ridicule persists. Almost all 
the astronomers who responded to the sur- 
vey said that they wanted to remain 

It wasn't difficult for the intelligence 
agencies to promote taking scientific 
cheap shots at those who reported UFO 
sightings, because a small number of such 
witnesses were indeed cranks, hoaxers, 
publicity seekers, and lunatics. The worst 
of the lot. because fhey were so good at 
getting publicity, were those "contactees" 
who claimed that they had been taken 
aboard alien spacecraft and flown to the 
outer limits of space. Among UFO inves- 
tigators, contactee became a word of deri- 

Despite the crazies and the ridicule, 
there are close to fifty contactee cases that 
are difficult to dismiss out of hand. "The 
dozens of cases of that kind that we have 
come across have consistent similarities 
that can't be easily explained away," says 
Dr. Hynek, who first coined the phrase 
"close encounters of the third kind" as a 
special category of UFO experience. "For 
instance, in the typical case you have a 
short conscious memory of an encounter, 
then there ensues a period of amnesia, and 
then when we put the contactee under re- 
gressive hypnosis out comes a similar story 
in every case — it always involves some sort 
of medical examination. Now what the hell 
isgoingon?lsitasortof an image, as Jung 
would say, that is planted in our collective 
unconscious, and everybody comes up 
with the same story under hypnosis? Or did 
it really happen?" 

Betty Hill is today more certain than ever 
that she had an experience with occupants 
of a spacecraft, and many scienfists in- 
volved in UFO research think her story is 
credible because of independent evi- 

Betty and her husband, Barney, who has 
since died, were driving through the White 
Mountains of New Hampshire in Septem- 
ber 1961 when a bright ball of light 
swooped down from the skies and followed 
their car. They remembered stopping to 
watch it through binoculars. And then, 
somehow, they were back on the main road 
en route to their home city. Later, they 
realized about two hours and from twenty- 
five to thirty miles of driving were missing 
from their memory. That realization troubled 
them for a couple of years, during which 
they didn't seek publicity and discussed 
the experience only with relatives and close 
friends. After two years of nightmares, they 

il want a lover who 

dominates me, not with 

force, but with gentle 

persuasion. 9 




Iwaseducated in England, buli'm a Parisian by birth, choice, and temperament," claims Veronique 
de Valdene. "Some ot you may think the French are overexcitable, but that is the kind of passion you 
find at the heart ot France. We believe being civil' is very often less civilized than freely expressing 
your feelings. "She adds. "I'd never leave Paris— not permanently, not forany great length of time!" Given 
the same geographic proximity, we could say the same about Veronique. With her honey-colored hair and 
pouting lips, this magnificently molded example of French architecture could put pay to the Arc de 
Triomphe as France's premier tourist attraction. "It is imposing, but I suppose I have more curves," she 
says. When not out improving the view, Veronique is busy running a little lingerie boutique on the Right 
Bank. "I discovered that I love to sew and create little things of my own— especially lingerie. At first, I 
made things only for myself and close friends. Gradually, it grew into a business." 

But commercial 
success is not 
an end in itself, 
or so Veronique 
suggests. "A 

expand her 

vision— her 

interests. She 

must never stop 

growing. She 

must lasts life 

from every cup 

. , . experience 

everything but 


nothing of 

iWhen you're touching and making each other happy in bed, it's a universal communication. 3 

"I'm an independent woman in man/ ways, but lhal doesn't, mean that I can't enjoy what you 
Americans call my 'feminine mystique: does ii? I can't imagine not having lacy, sexy under- 
things to tempt a man with. And why would any woman object to a man who holds open a door 
(or her or sends her (lowers or tells her romantic.unimportant things while they're strolling along 
n the moonlighl? And that doesn't mean I can't also be interesting in other ways!" 
Veronique prides hersell on being as well informed as she is well endowed. "Every week," she 
tells us, "I regularly read not only Paris-Match and Metro but also Newsweek and Time." 

How does she feet aboul American men? Are they as interesting sexually as Frenchmen? "Well, I 
guess l do like a little variety." she admits, scarcely blushing. "I usually feel more comfortable when 
I'm with a fellow countryman, but the most important thing in a lover is not where he's from. It's that i 
must feel cherished. When I make love with a man," she volunteers. "I want him to dominate me, not 
with force, but with gentle persuasion— you know, as in that American song. To tell the truth, it 
doesn't really matter at all to me if he's from another culture, because when were touching and 
exploring and making each other happy in bed, it's a universal communication, is it not?" 

Whether we 
are looking at 
listening to her. 

that ir 


way— charm. 
beauty, and the 
promise of end- 

possibilities — 

she definitely ha: 
Pahs matched. 



our individual lives and our lives as a soci- 

As the twentieth century draws to a 
close, science is catching up with fiction. 
What once existed only in the imagination 
ol certain seers and their readers is now the 
subject of congressional-appropriations 
debates. Bob Silverberg puts it this way: 
"We've been invaded by the twenty-first 
century. In a lot of ways we are leading a 
science-fiction existence. In the forties and 
fifties, even though there were lots ol 
technological changes, they came at a 
regular pace. Now there's some new won- 
der every year or two. I think the changes 
are going to come faster and faster, and a 
lot of people are turning io science fiction 
as a conditioner against future shock." 

Starlog's Zimmerman says, "The blend- 
ing of science fiction and science fact is so 
much greater today than anyone is aware of 
that we would probably have instant trauma 
if it were all made public at once. Scientists 
are working on canceling gravity. Laser 
technology is a! a point that staggers the 
imagination; they're turning holograms into 
three-dimensional objects with weight and 
substance. These are projects in the works 
right now." 

Isaac Asimov, who is as adept at writing 
science texts as he is at fiction epics, is as 

adamant as anyone else about the need for 
science fiction; "What science fiction does 
is to force people to think in terms of 
change. You must work out solutions, not to 
what now exists, but to what's going to exist 
by the lime you can get the solution started. 
And the only practice for that, dammit, is 
reading science fiction! Reading and writ- 
ing science fiction arc essential to the sur- 
vival of civilization." 

Even the prognostications of the best 
minds in the genre need to be revised with 
the passage of time. Asimov's own /, Robot 
(1950) posited laws of robotics that would 
govern conduct of artificial intelligence. 
Michael Rogers, a novelist who has written 
science-fiction stories and who does a sci- 
ence column for Rolling Stone, came 
across a paper at a computer fair, suggest- 
ing that Asimov's laws needed drastic and 
immediate amendment. "One of the new 
ones this guy suggested was. 'No robot will 
be given full access io the means of self- 
reproduction.' That's extremely ominous! 
Something else he said was. 'We must- 
begin to wonder what it will be like when 
artificial-intelligence machines become 
smarter than we are; how will we be able to 
tell?' His only answer was. 'When a ma- 
chine begins to appear insane, one possi- 
bility is that its intelligence exceeds our 
own. since the operations of a higher intel- 
lect will probably always be meaningless to 
those unable to comprehend them.' 

"It's time for another great leap of imagi- 

"And now. in keeping w/*h our policy ol 
giving equal time to a spokesperson with opposing Vi 

nation." Roger'; guesses "because it's'be- 
ginning to look as if everything that's been 
written about artificial intelligence so far will 
all indeed happen." 

Joe Haldeman. whose book Mindbridge 
set a record tor the science-fiction field 
when its paperback rights were sold for 
$100,000. has had the experience of see- 
ing some of his fic^onal invention validated 
by reality. "I made up the idea of using 
black holes as a sort of shortcut to interstel- 
lar travel, to satisfy a pio; requirement. Then 
a couple of years later some astrophysicist 
at Yeshiva University came up with the star- 
tling news that that could actually happen!" 

Haldeman. like many science-fiction 
writers, has some science background. A 
member of the L-5 Society, a group dedi- 
cated to the establishment of floating 
habitats in space, he sees 'space utiliza- 
tion' as the only hope for survival of the 
human race. 

"There are so many ways we could de- 
stroy life on this planet. Any number of 
poisons. A new ice age. Increase of carbon 
dioxide in the air. which would puncture the 
ozone layer. The technology: liquid-metal 
fast-breeder reactors. DNA manipulation. I 
think it's important that we get a large 
breeding stock off the surface of this planet 
and get it someplace where the people 
who are on this planet can't destroy it, for 
whatever illogical reasons. But who's going 
to foot the bill? To a senator from Wisconsin, 
whose main preoccupation is dairy prod- 
ucts, this doesn't seem terribly impor- 
tant. . . ." 

Janet Morris summarizes the feelings of 
many science-fiction partisans when she 
says. "The science fiction of today is in 
Scientific American. In five years anyone 
who wants to write relevant conlemporary 
fiction is going to have to deal with scientific 
concepts. It's really true already." 

Rather than becoming outdated as the 
present catches up with some of its past 
musings, science fiction may well be 
poised at the brink ot a new golden age in 
which this fiction of the future/the past/the 
present is an important part of everybody's 

Chances are that no two science-fiction 
minds will agree on the future in the future 
anymore than they do now. And for every 
doomsayer there will be an equally 
eloquent prophet of joy, like that ever- 
enthusiastic citizen of the galaxy Ray 
Bradbury, who exclaims. "We're all lucky to 
be alive in this time, to be part of landing on 
the moon, the most important series of 
dates in the entire history of mankind. How 
much more important can anything be than 
the day we left earth and began io move out 
into outer space — when we stopped being 
caterpillars and became butterflies? We're 
going to go oif and colonize the moon; 
we're going to colonize Mars. We're going 
to write science fictions about that. Then 
we're going to build starships — Jesus 
Christ, how exciting! Our encounters with 
other worlds will be endless, because the 
universe is endless. This can go on for the 
next million years!" OH — g 




£The cheapest solution to the problem 
of today's useless middle class would have 
been to give them $20,000 in tax-free welfare 
a year in return for a solemn promise 
never to come to work again. It was more costly 
to allow them to work in the space program. 9 


Contributing edit* vcn Hoffman's 
latest book. Moke-Betiove Presidents 

Illusions of fi.w£',' 1 11m K'c-Kin'ey to Carter. 
has just been published by Pantheon 






Current gossip in space circles has it that the shuttle 
rocket — the one Cronkite shows us piggybacking on a 
Boeing 747— will blow up it it's pushed to full throttle. 
At half throttle it is supposed to be able to fly up to an orbiting 
space station and come back down again without disintegrat- 
ing, but the catch is that at half throttle it can't carry much of a 
payload. Since the space shuttle was advertised as the 
cheap, reusable rocket that would ferry food and supplies to 
starry places for but a few dollars a ton. the fact that it is next to 
useless would make sensible, practical-minded people 
abandon the project. 

That can't happen, and that won't happen, because space 
is the voyage of the technically trained middle class toward 
full, if not necessarily useful, employment. The telltale indica- 
tion of who profits from touring beyond the earth's gravitational 
field is to be seen in the fact that one of the first things our 
astronauts did upon touching down on the moon was to play 
golf. Golf, after all. is the game of the affluent middles, the 
upper-class male having given it up for jogging and Ihose 
violent paddieball games that are said to be so good for the 
cardiovascular system. 

The old-fashioned middle class consisted of doctors, 
lawyers, the smaller sorts of businessmen, and various kinds 
of self-starters and fast finishers. They were the ultrarespect- 
ables, independent props and stays of the community, who 
owned property and made money by their own efforts. The 
new middle class owns nothing but a college education. 
That's its only equity in life: four, six. eight, ten years of expen- 
sive schooling, which may or may not equip some of them to 
perform worthwhile and needed tasks, but which imbues all of 
them with the expectation of lifetime incomes. The space 
program is primarily designed for these people. 

Ignore their expectations at your peril. While they may not 
have the skills to provide a service that people are willing to 
pa/ for they have the capacity and the potential for the 
bloodiest mischief. They're easily converted into dangerous 
revolutionaries if they don't get a good living. It's this useless 
collegiate class — these engineers, psychologists, coor- 
dinators, planners, research specialists, communications ex- 
perts, personnel managers, and Ph.D. expediters — that fur- 
nishes the new clericals from whom are recruited roving ter- 
rorists like the Baader-Meinhofgang in Germany and the Red 
Brigades in Italy. 

The working classes are reasonable, patient, and self- 
disciplined. Whether simple American-style pork-chop trade 
unionists or the more doctrinaire European Communists, 
Socialists, or anarchists, they aren't to be found speeding 
about kidnapping politicians and assassinating businessmen 
and charladies. It's the new middle class — the overeducated 
nultos— that plays those sanguinary games. 

When the Russians, who may also have been trying to busy 

their idle middle-class technocrals, puf their first satellites info 
orbit, American strategists reacted by changing the product 
mix coming out of the high schools and colleges to increase 
the number of technicians available for the great race to the 
moon. But these planners badly overestimated the numbers 
needed for designing and pertecting lunar leisure suits and 
cranked out superfluously large quantities of people who had 
the dreary skills necessary for lunar perambulation and 
backpacking across the solar system 

Needed or not. these people had been promised a living, 
and a living had to be provided. The cheapest solution would 
have been to put them on a permanent high-income 
unemployment-compensation program . . . straight out lax- 
free welfare of $20,000 a year in return for a solemn promise 
never to come to work again It sounds expensive, but it was 
more costly to allow them into ihe research-and-development 
facility. Public employment instead of undisguised welfare is 
cheap for leaf rakers who lean on the handles of their tools 
from April to October, waiting for the raw material for their 
occupation to drop from Ihe tree branches. Leaves grow at no 
expense to the taxpayers. But providing the new middle-class 
■technicians with supplies and equipment means running up 
deficits larger than the total light-years in a voyage to Orion. 

For a time it was hoped that it might be possible to switch 
the new middle-class technicians into other lines of work, like 
building subways and renovating inner-city real estate. One 
result of this scheme is BART, Bay Area Rapid Transit, the 
multi-billion-dollar fiasco fhat runs under the waters from San 
Francisco to Oakland (most of the time, however, it doesn't 
run). As far as using interstellar know-how to rejuvenate 
inner-city housing is concerned, landlords in places like the 
South Bronx would rather torch their slums. 

The reason for the terrestrial failures of space technology is 
that it is essentially useless. Space technicians aren't trained 
to achieve utilitarian values. They have no customers to sell to 
and no stockholders demanding earnings and dividends. 
They've never had pressure put on them to perfect and design 
useful tools or products. The proof of this failure is the spin-off 
stuff from fhe space program that the technicians say has 
contributed to better living down on earth. 

For example, there are those tangerine-colored crystals 
that, when dissolved in water, will yield a form of gravity-free 
Kool-Aid. This Day-Glo-colored drink that tastes like a 
chemist's distant approximation of orange juice is not to be 
compared in cost, quality, or nutrition with the juice of the 
citruses cultivated in such abundance in Florida and Califor- 
nia. 8ut it is held up as an example of the valuable contribu- 
tions being made by those on space, welfare, 

The most exalted product of the space program is the 
no-stick frying pan. It is to those intrepid drones, the 
thousands of faceless free-lunch eaters in the research-and- 

development complexes, that we owe the substance that lets 
us easily slide two eggs, sunny-side down, onto our breakfast 
plates. As with all lift-ofts engineered by these technological 
wastrels, the cost of eating undamaged yolks with our English 
muffins runs into the billions. 

All welfare cons are launched — if you'll pardon the expres- 
sion—by inflaming the imaginations of the taxpayers. Shrinks 
and social workers promise us they'll rehabilitate murderers 
and rapists currently incarcerated at the cost of $6,000 a year 
each in the pen; the quacks at the National Institutes of Health 
keep pleading for one more billion to wipe out cancer; the 
National Education Association swears to God that the only 
thing standing between Johnny and literacy is a pile of green- 
backs the size of Mount Rainier. 

The vision currently used to keep thpse paychecks 
a-comin' to the high-tech personnel in the extraterrestrial- 
transportalion-welfare con is the space colony. An enormous 
man-made satellite, tens of thousands of acres in extent, is to 
swish about that old rusty bucket, the deteriorating Space- 
ship Earth. It will be out in these colonies, perpetually whirling 
around the left-behinds below, that they would have you be- 
lieve crop,? will be grown and surplus populations will romp 
and copulate, though they will not. heaven forfend, conceive 
in a state of perfectly planned happiness unobtainable on 
terra infirma below. 

This picture of things to be built has even claimed the 
enthusiasm of such normally antiwelfare types as Gov. Jerry 
Brown of California. Brown is one of the mosf vocal advocates 
of space colonialism, as well he might be expected to be. 
California has a superfluity of new-welfare technicians and 
old-welfare blacks and minority members. The space colony 
offers Ihe chance of keeping the techies fully employed build- 
ing the Great Ghetto in the Sky 

You know who is going to be shot off in rockets to live in the 
space colonies once they're operational, and you know it won't 
be you, white man. Within two years after the president and the 
secretaries of HUD and HEW shuttle up to the colony to become 
the first such officials fo leave the planet and cut a blue ribbon in 
the blue yonder, the place will look like the inside of the New York 
City subway system. There'll be graffiti over the dome and 
free-floating dreck, debris, and garbage endlessly moving 
about to create a total environment of weightless filth. 

In this bizarre way the techies of the new middle class will 
make good on their promise to solvethe problem of the inner city. 
It will cost 2 billion smackers to blast every welfare mother into 
space, buf a nation that suffers constitutional qualms about 
sending 'em back where they came from will have none about 
propelling them past the Van Allen Belt into the really really big 
sky country Then the new clericals who are watching the mon- 
itors and operating the consoles will at last be able tohold up their 
heads and lay claim to socially useful employment, CM— a 

The writer wanted 

to solve the greatest mystery 

of all, and died trying. 



■ *■■ hen I first received the assign- 
|wUf merit, initial response was 

■ ■decidedly ambivalent, Well, not 
ambivalent, perhaps, so much as ambigu- 
ous. 0n second thought, I guess you might 
say I was of two minds on the matter. 

On the one hand, there could be no 
denying that the assignment was. in jour- 
nalistic parlance, a plum of some propor- 
tions. Successfully executed, it was almost 
certain to grease my way, if not to the top, 
then at least lo a cover story, an outsized 
by-line, and a lucrative book contract, re- 
plete with generous advance and royalty 
points. Maybe even a TV docudrama 
or — who knew? — a major motion-picture 
deal. At the same time, I also harbored 
some grave misgivings; if the assignment 
was not successfully executed, I would be. 

"It's the only thing we've managed to 
come up with that hasn't already been 
done to death," explained Mel "Happy" 
Feller, executive editor of Joie magazine. 
"We've been through the wife swaps, life 
swaps, psychotic episodes, sftiup-and-tell 
pieces, ethnic posturing, and Jewish com- 
plaints." His voice took an earnest turn. "I 
know it sounds like a risky business— and 
you don't have to answer until I finish what I 
say— but I am talking ten thou for half as 
many words and God knows what fortunes 
in spin-offs. Maybe even a TV docudrama 

or— who knows?— a major motion-picture 

I squirmed self-consciously in the tiny 
writer's chair positioned directly beneath 
his towering desk, unable lo work up even 
a tentative reply. 

"Believe me, it's so safe it's really fool- 
proof." he went on. "We send you in for 
some mock surgery, then shoot you up with 
some drug that simulates the death state. 
you drift oft for a couple of hours, come 
back none the worse, and you're ten g's to 
the good. For starters, just for starters." 

"If it's so safe," I finally managed, "why 
don't you get a name to do it?" 

"Look," he sighed, idly twirling the mas- 
sive, gray sideburns that further obscured 
an already strikingly nondescript face. "I 
happen to think you're a damned good 
writer, I also happen to think you deserve a 
break; you're too good to waste your life 
writing filler items and smut copy, which is 
what you've been doing; let's face it, I also 
happen lo think you'll do a helluva story," 

He paused. 



"Besides," he conceded, "I also happen 
to think we won't get any heavies for the 
kind of money we're talking. Mailer won't do 
it for less than a million, Plimpton's too tied 
up to die, and Salinger's politely informed 
us that he passed away some time ago. 

Even our own feature writers want a book 
deal in advance, where there simply isn't 
the time. You are, in short, our man." 

"I'll have to think it over," I told him. 

"Think it over," he said. "I've already 
commissioned a cover and set aside ten 
pages of the March ish. I want a yes or no 
by tomorrow noon." He paused. "Let me 
amend that," he reconsidered. "I want a 
yes by 10:00 a.m." 

Ensconced in a corner booth at the Shades 
of Hades, a local Anglo-Irish bar favored by 
would-be writers and hopeful hangers-on, I 
gave further thought to Mel's proposal. Fel- 
ler, for his part, was undeniably right; the 
demographics were impressive; death 
was definitely "in." No fewer than three 
popular paeans to the joys of Thanatos had 
already infiltrated the best-seller list {I'm 
Dead. You're Dead had been number one 
for weeks), several movies were in the can, 
and MTM Productions was working on a 
sitcom. Nevertheless, no professional 
scrivener had as yet undergone the death 
experience and lived to type the tale. If I 
wasn't the first, someone else, and quite 
possibly better, surely would be. It was a 
consideration I couldn't help considering. 
Still, I had my reservations. I didn't want 
to end up another casualty of the publish- 
ing wars; too many passable writers and 

perfectly noble trees had already gone that 
route. I couldn't help thinking about the 
journalist who'd swapped lives with a bar- 
maid, who later refused to trade back, or 
the proposed author of The Lighter Side of 
Chronic Depression, who remains to this 
day locked away in some obscure asylum, 
wondering who killed Sloane in the kitchen. 
Besides, while I may not have been too 
beautiful to live, I thought myself, at 
twenty-nine, a shade too young to die. 

Then again, I didn't want to waste the rest 
of my life writing filler items and smut copy, 
which, as Mel had pointed out, was what I'd 
been doing— let's face it. Nor was 1 likely to 
be presented with so plumlike an opportu- 
nity again . Even if worse came to worst — or, 
for that matter, usual to usual — I could at 
least count on collecting a two-grand kill 

But I think what finally clinched it for me 
was the dozen Tequila Sunrises I'd downed 
while mulling over Mel's offer. When I 
realized I couldn't even begin to pay the 
tab, I resolved at once to secure success or 
die trying. Or, if that's what it came to, even 
try dying. 

I arrived at Mel's office at precisely 10:00 
a.m.. accompanied by the most vicious 
hangover I'd had in days. My mind felt 
mined with poison-tipped punji sticks that 
threatened to spring into my eyes at the 
slightest provocation; a thousand tiny, 
screaming demons in my forebrain urged 
them on. Mel, immediately sensing my 
condition, addressed me in the most boom- 
ing voice he could muster. 

"Take your usual seat," he said. "I'll be 
with you in a sec." 

With a palm pressed against my febrile 
forehead, I scrunched down into the tiny 
writer's chair and waited while Mel shuffled 
through an enormous folder of neatly typed 

"It's all here," he fairly shouted, slapping 
the folder for emphasis. "Had the broads in 
research running crazy over this one." He 
chuckled dispassionately and put the 
folder aside. "We've got it all arranged with 
a certain Dr. Alswell. Ostensibly he'll be 
performing some minor surgery — remov- 
ing your liver — but what he'll really be 
doing is administering a simulated-death 
drug. So don't think of it as losing a livet so 
much as gaining an afterlife." 

He gave his head a giddy shake, twirled 
his sideburns, and continued. 

"Now, according to our research, which 
is pretty damned exhaustive, if I do say so 
myself (and I do), right off the bat you'll 
have a single advantage over your run-of- 
the-mill departed in that you won't really be 
dead. And unlike your be'/eved-to-be- 
deaders. you'll enjoy the security of know- 
ing you're not really dead, which should 
come in handy when you hear yourself 
being pronounced same, which, again ac- 
cording to our research, you should hear 
quite clearly. 

"Like most of us you've probably always 
thought that death is just like life — i.e., that 
it happens only to other people — so there 


may be some mild initial shock at first But 
you'll recover soon enough, at which point 
you should hear a loud ringing . . . well, 
maybe not wringing so much as your basic • 
loud buzzing sensation . . . which means 
it's time for an exhilarating ride through a 
long dark tunnel or void. Actually, it isn't a 
tunnel or void so much as a cave, well. 
trough, enclosure, funnel, vacuum, sewer. 
valley, or cylinder, depending on your ter- 

"Upon exiting the tunnel or void, you'll 
find yourself out of your body. This is not 
cause for alarm, however, as a new body 
awaits you. And, also again according to 
our research, what a body! A light, some- 
what more amorphous approximation of 
your old one but equipped with all kinds of 
new, improved features, including greater 
vision, hearing, and maneuverability. You 
and your new body take an immediate test 
run, floating up to the ceiling, where you'll 
watch while the docs try to revive your old. 
supposedly lifeless one. 

Death was very 

definitely "in." But no 

professional scrivener 

had as yet undergone 

the death experience and lived 

to type the tale. 

"Lonely 7 Not to worry: at this point you 
should be moving along to a kind of lobby, 
vestibule, anteroom, or foyer, where you'll 
run into the spirits of several former rela- 
tives, colleagues, and friends. You shoot 
the breeze with them a spell, before being 
introduced to a gent most folks call the 
'Being of Light,' who, by all our accounts, is 
something of a fun guy. He asks you a few 
questions you'll understand without his ac- 
tually asking — understand? — then 
screens a kind of instant replay of your life, 
with, I'm told, an emphasis on the high- 
lights, which should make for some inter- 
esting, not to say downright steamy, view- 
ing, if I know you and you get my drift. 

'After that you'll rap a while about cosmic 
mysteries, eternal verities, and the like in an 
unspoken language that allows for perfect, 
unimpeded communication; then he'll lead 
you to some kind of border or limit separat- 
ing you from the next life. Well, not a border 
or limit exactly, so much as a door, wall, 
fence, railing, barrier, barricade, balus- 
trade, portal, threshold, gateway, turning 
point, cordon, Rubicon, line of demarca- 
tion, or circumvallation, again depending 
on your terminology By this time you're so 
high on death, suffused with such an over- 

powering sense oi joie de mort, that you'd 
follow him anywhere, particularly across 
the border or limit into the afterlife. 

"But by now the drug is wearing off, and 
you start your short voyage homeward, 
bidding adieu to the Being of Light, ex- 
changing farewells with your former rela- 
tives, colleagues, and friends, shooting 
back through the tunnel or void, and re- 
assuming your old body. You wake up re- 
laxed, refreshed; we sign you out, I person- 
ally buy you a drink, and that, as they say, is 
essentially that." He leaned forward and 
winked. "In fact, it sounds so good that we 
just might have to dock you for some vaca- 
tion time!" 

"I don't work here," I reminded him. 

"There's just one little thing. Some people 
who've been through this have had a tough 
time trying to describe it later. But you're a 
pro; so there shouldn't be any problems 
there. Any questions?" 

"Just one," 

"What's that 7 " 

"What if something goes wrong?" 

He paused as if to give the matter some 

"Then we'll run the Farrah Fawcett 

"Tell the patient he can stop laughing 
now, Nurse," said Dr. Enswell, turning off 
the tank. "He's dead." 

That's the trouble with laughing gas, I 
thought: a half hour later you're serious 
again. I remember thinking that thought as 
clearly as I might have had I still been 
among the living, which technically I no 
longer was. As it stood, however, I had more 
important things than thoughts on my 
mind — Dr. Enswell's words chief among 

"We got to him too late," he explained, 
with an audible shrug. "Thirty minutes ear- 
lier he's home safe: patients one, doctors 
zip. Get him when we did and he's out by 
your proverbial mile. This is one game, I'm 
afraid, that won't be going into extra in- 

The surgeon's words were abruptly re- 
placed by a loud, persistent ringing, not 
unlike that of an agitated telephone, which 
in turn gave way to the nurse's voice. 

"It's for you, Doctor. A Mr. Feller." 


It was Dr. Enswell's voice. 

"Yes, Dr. Alswell was scheduled to per- 
form patient's operation. No, Dr. Alswell did 
no? perform patient's operation as sched- 
uled: a fatal coronary on his part early this 
morning precluded that possibility." 

I heard a faint but frantic crackling 
sound, similar to that of an excited voice 
being filtered through a poor connection. 

"No," Dr. Enswell resumed, with some 
impatience, "I don't know why Dr. Alswell 
failed to inform you of his cardiovascular 
history. Maybe he simply didn't have the 
heart. In any case"— and here his voice 
grew stern — "while I sincerely regret the 
loss of patient, I'm afraid that this does not 
constitute a valid excuse for nonpayment. 
No, I can't arrange a discount." 

So that was it, was it? thought I, with 
some apprehension. Dr. Alswell had ap- 
parently expired without having apprised 
his replacement — to whom 1 had already 
taken a vague dislike— of the particulars of 
my case. If such were indeed the case, it 
meant that I was not only, in fad and all 
actuality, literally and dismayingly, dead, 
but also probably minus a liver into the 
bargain. While I had long ago resigned my- 
self to just such a loss. I expected it to result 
from several added decades of tequila 
abuse, not some ill-briefed surgeon's spon- 
taneous caprice. 

1 would have reflected further on this dis- 
turbing turn of events, but my attention was 
suddenly drawn to the long, dark tunnel or 
void through which I found myself being 
propelled. Actually, it wasn't a tunnel or void 
so much as a cave, well, trough, enclosure, 
funnel, vacuum, sewer, valley, or cylinder, 
depending on my terminology. As for the 
new body to which Mel had referred, it 
wasn't an amorphous approximation of my 
former one, nor was it on the ceiling. In- 
stead, it was tiny, quite morphous, 
equipped with what seemed a thousand 
eyes and attached firmly to the wall. It also 
appeared to be the source of the renewed 
buzzing I'd been hearing. 

As for my tormer shell, I could make it out 
quite clearly, if somewhat tragmentedly, 
lying in informal state precisely as I'd letf it, 
though I didn't witness any strenuous at- 
tempts on Dr. Enswell's part to restore it to 
life. Oh, the nurse delivered a few casual 
thumps to the dead man's chest, but the 
surgeon summarily dismissed her with a 
warning against reading so many 
"bleeding-heart first aid manuals." Despite 
my contrary interests, on this point I had to 
agree. I'd never looked so peaceful in my 
life. ■ 

But, even as Mel had predicted, my mild 

initial shock soon gave way to a growing 

fascination with my newly acquired pow- 

i. From my literal fly-on-the-wall perspec- 

I found I could see quite distinctly 

hrough ordinary fabric, a talent I im- 

diately applied at the expense of the 

, who. provocatively bent over my 

:ad body, was dutifully unplugging my 

-support system. My verbal facilities 

3 likewise been altered, and I soon found 

nisusing words I never even knew I 

;dn't known before. My perceptions took 

i an icy edge of almost hypnagogic 


My auditory abilities had been similarly 
augmented. The buzzing gradually faded, 
and I discerned the unmistakable opening 
strains of the music of the spheres. I con- 
centrated for a time in contemplative si- 
ice before deciding that, while it was 
tay for listening, you couldn't really dance 
3 it. Giving it an eighty-five, I continued on 
my way. 

1 soon found myself stationed in some sort 
of dimly lit lobby, vestibule, anteroom, foyer, 
i don't know how long I might have stood 
tere. alone and uninformed, but if it wasn't 
suite a while, it was certainly some time. I 




Fashion by Ed Emmerling/Photographs by Earl Miller 

In the world of fashion, the future seems to be now For the discerning male, 
dressing ahead of ones time is simple: choose only the best of contemporary 

Switt. Clean. Decisive, Virtually genderless. The clothes to come combine a 
heroic gesture with boldness of line, exactitude ot color, and an audacious mix of 
fabrics. It's a vigorous fashion hybrid lhat juxtaposes wool and nylon, toughness 
and sophistication, the rough and the smooth. This is the philosophy of the new 
breed of industrial fashion designers. Whatever the input may be, the readout is the 
same: clothes that narrow the gap between fantasy and reality. Ot— a 

(above) The union or fashion and technology tor a highly refined, advanced society comes 
through in this pewter-colored thermal suit that fciw easily over .'fie body in a single piece 
(about $150). Zip-tronted and of poiviir^liene-coa'sd nylon. ,i .<, accessor/zed by the clear- 
plastic tube belt filled with ball bearings (about $16) and black wool-orlon cowl-neck sweater 
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(left) The tine line between fashion and function is drawn with this ensemble, which includes 
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ing reversible shirt-coat (about $170), zip-front and multi-pocketed (rippered) water-repellent 
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GLEN PATRICK MAGARY, 126 Fifth Avenue, New York; N.Y 10011: (212) 929-0516. The others 
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bottom pants (about $90) and a silk and mohair mesh sweater ($75) -is by BRIAN SCOTT 
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Camouflage Clothing. 141 Eighth Avenue. IVew York, N.Y 10011: (212) 741-9118 

(above) The heroic silhouette is larger than life-or almost The snap-front Quilted -cotton 
(sweat-shirt) cocoon coat with dolman sleeves ($180) by REGINA KRAVITZ tor REGGIE 
KRAYON CLOTHES, INC.. 7 West Twenty-second Street. New York, NY 10010: (212) 691-5330. 
Cotton-dacron hooded pullover top (about $80) and quilted Dupont nylon pants ($45) by 
David Leong. (seated) A reversible corded-cotton pullover with slit V-neck top ($150). cord- 
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RONALD KOLODZIE. 80 West Fortieth Street, New York. NX 10018: (212) 221-1760. Sterling 
silver belt buckle ($200) by Patricia Von Musulin, New York City. 



g) 1978 VOL 1 NO. 1 

PO Box 548 F.D.R. Station. New York, N.V 1002: 


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X125 BK37 Bi<38 BK04 

In this newsletter which we will be 
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new books tho" we oeliove will be of 

■'■'ler8S ; to VCl: 

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Humans are a finished chapter 

in evolution: our story 

is written. We are on our way 

to being living fossils. 

In 1961 the National Aeronautics and Space Adminis- 
tration (NASA) appointed Dr. Robert Jastrow director 
ot the Institute for Space Studies. They doubtless 
knew that they were getting a brilliant scientist who 
could theorize about space exploration and analyze the 
results of each completed project. 

Well, they got that and more. They found in Jastrow a 
man who not only had a flair for describing to the taxpayers 
how their money was being spent and why it was worth 
spending but who could also make a lot of citizens eager 
accomplices in his speculations about space, time, and 
man's position in the universe. When you read his simple, 
clear prose, you get the comfortable feeling that you now 
know practically as much as he does. You may not be any 
happier about man's lot. but you feel, well . . . educated. 
Jastrow's first book, Red Giants and White Dwarts, ex- 
plained how man came into existence. In his most recent 
work, Until the Sun Dies . he considers the latest information 
about the origins of the universe and goes on to speculate 
about the future and what will become of the human race. 
Supplementary to his books. Jastrow has written many 
newspaper and magazine articles on related subjects. 

He was born September 7. 1925, in New York City. He 
won numerous academic prizes and was a superb scholar. 
starting out as a premed student, then switching to. 
biophysics and again to theoretical physics. He graduated 
from Columbia College at the age of eighteen. By nineteen 
he had his master's degree, and at twenty-two he was a 
Ph.D. He spent a year at the University of Leiden in the 
Netherlands as a postdoctoral fellow and subsequently 
became a member of the Institute for Advanced Study in 
Princeton. Later he did research at the University of 
California at Berkeley and taught at Yale. 

By 1956 Jastrow had abandoned nuclear physics and 
been swept up by the romance of the space sciences. He 
joined Project Vanguard, the 'government program for 
launching the first American satellite. By 1958 he was 
making headlines, particularly when he told the Russians. 

during a visit to Moscow that they were wrong in calculat- 
ing that the Sputnik I rocket had fallen on North Ameri- 
ca — he could prove that it had fallen on Outer Mongolia. 
After his return from Moscow, he was named the head of 
NASA's theoretical division, which conducts basic re- 
search in astronomy and planetary science. Within a year 
he persuaded the government to allow him to set up the 
Institute for Space Studies at Columbia University, where it 
has remained and expanded. 

In 1963 he led an impassioned defence of the Apollo 
project against critics who questioned the wisdom of 
spending $22 billion to put men on the moon. Since the 
period of his involvement in lunar exploration, he has been 
engrossed in the Mars and Venus probes and — typically 
controversial — in opposing the majority view of his col- 
leagues that there is no life on Mars. 

Jastrow was married once and is now divorced, He lives 
in a comfortably cluttered apartment in Manhattan, over- 
looking the Hudson River. The living room windows have no 
drapes. The grand piano must be played standing up, 
since the bench is used to hold a hi-fi. An attractive rust-red 
rug covers the floor but doesn't quite fit one corner and has 
been allowed to run five inches up the wall. Hanging from a 
nail on one wall are a medallion from the Explorer's Club, an 
African necklace given him by astronaut Scott Carpenter, 
and a medallion from the Dutch Treat Club. A desk, typewri- 
ter and file cabinet dominate the bedroom. The bed seems 
an afterthought and is under constant threat of burial by a 
literary avalanche from the hundreds of books that bulge 
out from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. It is obviously the 
home of a man who works, as he maintains, between 
eighteen and twenty-four hours a day. = 

This exclusive Penthouse interview was conducted in Dr. ? 
Jastrow's apartment and in his hectic office at Columbia, % 
by frequent contributor Richard Ballad. The interview con- | 
centratedonthe future, particularly as itpertainstoJastrow's I 
pet theory that computers— or "the silicon intelligence''— f 
may very well supplant man as the next form of life. «£ 

Penthouse: What aspect of space science 
intrigues you the most? 
Jastrow: My main interest is in the possibil- 
ity of human existence in the cosmos and 
the fact that the earth has been such a 
recent arrival in the family of stars and 
planets in this cosmos. It seems unlikely 
that we are unique and alone in the uni- 
verse, favored by a creator who chooses to 
have life on this planet but on no other. It is 
much more likely that we are the new kids 
on the block and that the real life of the 
cosmos, the real physical reality, is outside 
the solar system and advanced far beyond 
our present understanding. 
Penthouse: Why should life be so ad- 
vanced elsewhere? 

Jastrow: The universe was created 20 bil- 
lion years ago in a shattering explosion. 
That is not an "iffy" question; it is a hard, 
proven fact, like the structure of the DNA 
helix. Our earth came into being less than 5 
billion years ago, out of the gases of space. 
Life on earth is 4 billion years old or there- 
abouts, and man, of course, is only a few 
million years old. This means that the very 
planet itself came into existence when 
much of the rest of the universe was al- 
ready 15 billion years old. And that means 
that the planets around us in other solar 
systems are, on the average, about 7 or 8 
billion years older than we are. 

So it is these two numbers, 5 billion years 
for the age of the earth and 20 billion years 
for the age of the universe, that are the 
striking facts to come out of astronomy. 
They tell us that we are not, as we like to 
think, at the summit of creation. We are 
down near the bottom somewhere. 
Penthouse: You have written about what the 
next form of life on earth will be like. What 
are your latest conclusions? 
Jastrow: The history of life, as contained in 
the fossil record, reveals a progression from 
simple to complex, starting from the 
threshold of life, about 4 billion years ago. 
One billion years ago the highest forms of 
life were worms and jellyfish. But we are not 
circular like the jellyfish, so obviously we 
are in a line of descent from the worm. And 
worms, of course, had no brains to speak 
of. In a billion years, according to the fossil 
record, man evolved out of the worm. 

Now, this gives us a perspective on our 
place in the cosmos relative to societies 
that may be a billion years older than we 
are. We may appear to them as the worm 
appears to us. You must notice that it took 
only 1 billion years to get from the worm to 
the man but 3 billion years to get from the 
threshold of life to the worm. So we're actu- 
ally very close to the worm. 

It is also revealed in the fossil record that 
at every stage in the evolution of intelligent 
life, the highest form present became the 
rootstock out of which a new, higher form 
developed. In the case of man, we evolved 
out of the Savannah ape in a line that split 
off, 4 or 5 million years ago, from an animal 
in the tree that looked something like genus 
Australopithecus, the "ape-man." Now, 
Australopithecus leveled off in brain size 
and became extinct about a million years 

ago. But Homo, our ancestor, kept increas- 
ing in brainpower until about a quarter of a 
million years ago, when it began leveling 
off; and in the last 100,000 years, the 
human brain has not changed in size. The 
body of man has changed hardly at all for a 
million years. 

So we are a finished chapter in evolution: 
our story is written. We are on the way to 
being living fossils. But the history of life 
indicates that man is likely to be the root- 
stock out of which a higher form will evolve. 
It will not be a more intelligent man — man is 
Homo sapiens — but rather a new form, 
something beyond man. The question now 
is whether this new form will be a biological 
entity having puny limbs and a big head to 
accommodate the progression of intelli- 
gence. Will the brain of man continue to be 
housed in some hollow shell of bones, fed 
by blood vessels, from a model developed 
by the fishes 300 million years ago? Or will it 
be something different? 

I say that computers, as we call them, are 

Computer beings are 
evolving at a dynamite speed. 

They have increased in 

capabilities by a power of ten 

every seven years since 

the dawn of the 
computer age, in 1950. 

a newly emerging form of life, one made out 
of silicon rather than carbon. Silicon is 
chemically similar to carbon, but it can 
enter into a sort of metal structure in which it 
is relatively invulnerable to damage, is es- 
sentially immortal, and can be extended to 
an arbitrarily large brain size. Such new 
forms of life will have neither human emo- 
tions nor any of the other trappings we as- 
sociate with human life. 
Penthouse: You use the term life to de- 
scribe what we usually think of as lifeless 
creatures. One might call them "computers 
with delusions of grandeur." How can you 
say they are a form of life? 
Jastrow: They are new forms of life. They 
react to stimuli, they think, they reason, they 
learn by experience. They don't, however, 
procreate by sexual union or die — unless 
we want them to die. We take care of their 
reproduction for them. We also take care of 
their food needs, which are electrical. They 
are evolving at a dynamite speed. They 
have increased in capabilities by a power 
of- ten every seven years since the dawn of 
the computer age, in 1950. Man, on the 
other hand, has not changed for a long 
By-the end of the twentieth century, the 

curves of human and computer growth will 
intersect, and by that time, I am confident, 
quasi-human intelligences wilt be with us. 
They will be similar in mentality to a fresh- 
ly minted Ph.D.: very strong, very narrow, 
with no human wisdom, but very powerful in 
brute reasoning strength. They will be work- 
ing in combination with our managers, who 
will be providing the human intuition. Sili- 
con entities will be controlling and regulat- 
ing the complex affairs of our twenty-first- 
century society. The probability is that this 
will happen virtually within our own lifetime, 

What happens in the thirtieth century, or 
the fortieth? There are 6 billion years left 
before the sun dies, and over that long 
period I doubt whether biological intelli- 
gence will continue to be the seat of intelli- 
gence for the highest forms of life on this 
planet. Nor do I think that those advanced 
beings on other planets, who are older than 
we are, if they exist, are housed in shells of 
bone on a fish model of carbon chemistry 
Silicon, I think, is the answer. 
Penthouse: What are the powers of mobility 
like in these silicon beings? 
Jastrow: Mobility is only an attribute of life 
as we know it. I envision these entities as 
immortal beings, freed from the prison of 
life on a planet like the earth. We mortals 
cannot escape earth, except to nearby 
places like the moon and Mars, because 
our life span will never be more than 100 or 
200 years, at most, and it takes 100,000 
years or perhaps 1 million years to get from 
the earth to some other habitable place. 
But a silicon intelligence, in the memory 
bank of a central store on a spaceship, 
could live forever. To such an intelligence, a 
million years would be like a day. 
Penthouse: Would these silicon entities dig 
their own minerals, refine them, make their 
own spare parts, and repair themselves? 
Jastrow: Yes. just as Hal. the computer in 
the film 2007. A Space Odyssey, was able 
to control all his sense organs and all the 
mechanical devices of the ship. The space 
ship in that film was alive. The human be- 
ings were mere adjuncts, though they did 
win out in the end. 

Mobility is not in the brain but in the 
sense organs and the organs for manipula- 
tions that they control. Silicon entities need 
not be biological or derived from the model, 
that, again, we got from the apes of the 
Savannah. They can be made of metal and 

Penthouse: Will humans as we know them 
die out like the dodo? 
Jastrow: It may be that a symbiotic union 
will exist between humans and new forces 
of life, between biological and nonbiologi- 
cal intelligence — and it may now exist on 
other planets. We might continue to serve 
the needs of the silicon brain while it serves 

Penthouse: Do you think that the computer 
beings will triumph in the end? 
Jastrow: Yes. Not "triumph" in the sense of 
a war but triumph in the same sense that 
the mammals triumphed over the di- 
nosaurs. It will be the next stage of perfec- 






Light years beyond ihe technological 
potential ol today's science — alert to 
the myriad possibilities of the 
future — Omni foresees a world of 
growing intellectual vitality, expanding 
dreams and infinite hope, a world in 
which the magical has become real, 
the impossible commonplace. 

Editorially. Omni will pursue that 
which is probable within the context of 
that which is known. Each month Omni 
will present the latest developments in 
science and technology and strive to' 
predict their impact on the future. The 
most adventurous and forward-looking 
members of the scientific community 
will be profiled and interviewed. Top 
science fiction writers will prophesy the 
philosophical, emotional, and structural 
realities of the world to be. 

Omni is the world's first major 
publication to combine science fiction 
and science fact, the first publication to 
afford paranormal phenomena the simple 
dignity of a proper ongoing scientific 
inquiry. Omni's aim is fo heighten and 
enliven the world we live in — to discover, 
clarify, and inform. Omni's range, 
editorially and graphically, is as 
broad as the universe, as infinite as 




In October of 1976, Luna, the 
16-year-old daughter of science writer 
Robert Anton Wilson, was brutally 
beaten and killed in a grocery store 
robbery. Helpless in the face of death, 
Wilson took the only action he could. He 
immediately had the child's brain set in 
cryonic suspension, frozen in liquid 
nitrogen. From this frozen brain a part 
of Luna's identity may someday be 
recovered or, from the cells of her brain 
stem, a new body cloned. 

Possible immortality is not the only 
promise of such freezing. For 
example, near absolute zero, where all 
molecular motion ceases, resistance 
to electricity suddenly disappears, 
allowing it to flow virtually 
forever with no loss of energy. 


For hundreds of years 
pilgrims have flocked to a town 
in Italy to view a mysterious 
piece of cloth known as the 
Turin Shroud The shroud 
displays an unaccountable, 
photographiike image of 
a man some believe to be 
Jesus Christ. 

This fall, after a summer on 
public display, the shroud is 
to be minutely tested by an 
international team of scientists 
looking lor clues to its origins. 

The Turin Shroud, UFOs, 
the Bermuda Triangle, strange 
explosions in the atmosphere, 
telepathy clairvoyance, 
out-of-body experiences — 
wherever events challenge the 
imagination, Omni will be 
there to report the facts 
and comment on science's 
expanding efforts to explain 
the unexplainable. 


Armed with a mind-bending array of 
supertechnology, physicians can now 
literally peek inside the body to see 
what's wrong Computer enhanced 
x-rays (below), fiber optic video 
systems contained in a hypodermic 
needle, sound holograms, nuclear 
scanners— you'll see it all in Omni. 



We send a variety of messages 
into space these days. Some, like 
the message at left, are reasoned 
statements of who we are. where 
we live, and what we're doing. 
Others, like the television reruns of 
/ Love Lucy that continuously 
leak into space, are less thoughtful. 
Nonetheless, they have so far 
reached some 400 stars, their 
planets, and perhaps inhabitants. 

Are we getting answers? 

Nobody knows for sure but we 
are listening hard. In an upcoming 
Omni, Alton Blakeslee tells us of 
NASA's plans to upgrade the giant 
electronic "ears" we now have 
tuned to space. 

And if the aliens are already 
here? Omni will tell you of a new 
test, based on ihe properties of 
starlight, to determine whether 
or not your neighbor is an 
extraterrestrial. And if he is, you 
can even locate where he's from. 







You can now take a trip into space, a real no-drugs trip 
into real space. The cost is an even $1 million, the trip 
lasts some 20 minutes (or shorter), and the vehicle is 
primarily leftover NASA hardware. Read about it in Omni. 

If you want to go with friends, a better way would be 
NASA's newest baby the Space Shuttle, developed by 
Rockwell International. As early as 1982 the shuttle 
could carry hundreds of passengers into orbit each 
year. Tourists. And the tickets should cost considerably 
less than $1 million. You'll find out about that in Omni too. 

While you wait for your boarding card, Omni will tell 
you where to go and what to see here on this bizarre and 
wonderful planet, third from the sun. Omni will be your 
guide to ancient meteor craters, exploding volcanoes, 
sand beaches that actually sing under your feet, 
archaeological digs, the secret places where animals 
mate, museums, laboratories, even the hideaways 
where scientists go to relax. Exploration is science 
adventure and Omni will take you where the action is. 

Ideas AruD irjimbes 


"The Creator of the universe comes through 
the microscope clearly and strongly. 
Everything made by human hands looks 
terrible under magnification." 

Roman Vishniac should know At 81 . he 
remains the world's foremost photo- 
micrographer. From examinations ot the 
structure of matter to incandescent views of 
distant galaxies, Omni will take you on visual 
voyages far beyond the worlds you know and 


"I finally learned how to come into possession of an encyclopedia. I already 
own one now— the whole thing contained in three glass vials. Bought them m a 
science psychedeli. Books are no longer read but eaten, not made of paper 
but ol some informational substance; fully digestible, sugar-coated. I also did 
a little browsing in a psychem supermarket. Self-service. Arranged on the 
shelves are beautifully-packaged low-calorie opinionates. gullibloons— 
credibility beans?— abstract extract in antique gallon jugs, and itfies, 
argumunchies, puritands and dyecstasy chips.'' 
• Stanislaw Lem in The Futurological Congress 

"I think it's possible to go into space on a 

much smaller scale— a cost on f he order of 

S40.000 per person, which in terms of real 

wages, is comparable to passage on the 

Mayflower. Otherwise, space is a luxury only 

governments can afford." 

So speaks the eminent physic istAiturist 
Freeman J. Dyson, subject of one Omni 
interview Each month Omni will present, 
probe, and challenge the ideas and opinions 
of the most important minds in science and 
science fiction. Rare close encounters with 
such notable thinkers as Alvin Toffler Isaac 
Asimov, Jacques Cousteau, Thor Heyerdahl, 
and Jane Goodall will be the rule rather than 
the exception in Omni 


1} A robot may not injure a human being, or. through inaction, allow a human 
being to come to harm. 

2) A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such ■ 
orders would conflict with the First Law. 

3) A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not 
conflict with the First or Second Law. 

Isaac Asimov, /, Robot 


"He was sleek and he was furry; he was totally amphibious, 
and Althair the adventurer was what he really was. However, 
he was known, on his lovely planet Ceer, as Atthair Storyteller 
just because he did that better— better even than 
adventuring, at which he was a marvel. His people called his 
planet Ceer, the planet indefectible,' and that it really was." 

Thus begins Theodore Sturgeon's short story "Time Warp," 
a mind-bending tale of time travel, exploding planets, and the 
marvelous Althair who can make anyone invisible. You can 
find out what happens in the October Omni Also in early 
issues of Omni you will find stories by established masters 
such as Isaac Asimov Ben Bova, and Harlan Ellison, as well as 
offerings by the new writers who will chart the future of this 
exciting genre. 



Before he had conceptualized time, man viewed the (light of 
birds with awe and envy Too heavy and unstreamlined to 
escape his earthly prison, millennia would pass before such 
imaginative men as Leonardo would develop the mind, the 
artistry, and the intellectual sophistication to anticipate the 
heavenward journey. Another five centuries would pass before 
man's knowledge could catch up to his aspirations Omni's 
coverage of man's escape from terra firma will begin with the 
inspired drawings of Leonardo, recapture that epochal day 
at Kitty Hawk, encompass the revolution wrought by the 
propeller, and trace the development of powered flight through 
rocketry and beyond. In words and pictures, Omni will detail 
our flight against nature and gravity and then take us to the 
ultimate frontiers of lime and space for the most incredible 
journey of all. 


For ihe first time in history humankind is in 
possession of data and knowledge about 
the whole earth: resources, ecosyslems, 
population, environments. How we put 
this vital knowledge to work may well 
determine whether or not we will survive. 

Each month Omni will present the 
important environmental issues — strip 
mining, nuclear waste storage, air and 
water pollution, political strategies and 
alternatives, new technologies and new 
energies. It will provide a forum tor all 
those concerned with the environment, 
conservationists and industrialists alike. 


At this instant, light is reaching the earth from. vast exploding 
galaxies at the edges of the universe; neutrino telescopes 
buried a mile under solid rock are peering into the seething 
interior of the sun; engineers are working on plans for an ion 
rocket probe designed to rendezvous with Halley's comet. 
Each month Omni will bring you IheJatest in astronomy and 
space technology, ranging from the plight of Skylab to the 
frontiers of cosmological speculation. 



On a dark hillside in Texas, technicians monitor a battery of 
instruments, hoping to catch and record UFO visitations. Oata 
specialists across the country analyze computerized images of 
alleged Ofo photographs, seeking evidence of authenticity. A 
Chicago firm prints out pattern analyses of UFO sightings, 
searching for a signal behind the noise of thousands of annual 

After three decades of aimless theorizing, UFO proponents 
have finally accepted the rules of science. 

Will they succeed? 

Each month Omni will report on the controversial world of 
believers and nonbelievers, chronicle important highlights of the 
UFO phenomenon, evaluate the evidence. Final proof now rests 
with the time-tested standards of scientific research. - .and 
Omni will be there. 

We are in the midst of an incredible media 
explosion wherein science plays the 
principal role. 

Omni will keep you informed on all 
science-related and science fiction films. 
books', tv, theater, music, and any other 
medium that is likely to illuminate and 
influence your future. 

Movies such as Superman , Flash 
Gordon , The Lord of the Rings , Star Trek , 
Gizmo, and Meteor will be coming your 
way soon, They promise the ultimate in 
adventure, special effects, and the kind of 
exquisite excitement that only science and 
science fiction can generate. 

With Srar Wars and Close Encounters of 
the Third Kind dramatically underscoring a 
new age in media recognition of science 
fiction, television has lost little time 
mounting such special productions as The 
Martian Chronicles , Brave New World, an 
all new version of Buck Rogers , as well as 
BattlestarG atactica. Project UFO, Quark, 
The Incredible Hulk, and Space Force. 

As barometers of human endeavor, 
media and art tell us that the future is 
now — your future and ours— and that's 
what Omni is all about. 


In the October issue of Omni, Dr. 
Bernard Dixon, editor of the 
prestigious British weekly New 
Scientist, will tell you of a species 
only recently endangered — the 
smallpox virus. Virtually extinct in 
nature, the smallpox virus may soon 
be eradicated in the laboratory as 
well. According to Dr. Dixon, the tola! 
elimination of this deadly virus may 
not be such a good idea. 

Each month in Omni Dr. Dixon will 
report on the latest developments 
in the life sciences. His column, Life 
Sciences, will explore the most 
wondrous of man's endeavors — the 
study of life itself. 


Did you know that: 

• We can now equip mice with 
human chromosomes? 

• We can make machines that see. 
hear think, (earn, and speak? 

• Nearly 15 percent of all Americans 
bite their toenails? 

• Power lines affect climate, 
agriculture— and human 

• Over 200 satellites now in orbit are 
"nuclear bombs "? 

• Homeowners' rights to solar 
power are not protected by law? 

• A pocket of sea creatures has 
been found a mile deep in the 
ocean where life as we know it 
should be unable to survive? 

• The unicorn, traditionally a 
mythological beast, may have 
existed after alt? 

• Computer crime will comprise 
more than 20 percent of the total 
felonies in the next five years? 

Continuum, Omni's unique data 
bank of scientific anomalies and 
curiosities, will bring you answers to 
these and similarly fascinating 
questions each month. A potpourri 
of late-breaking developments, 
compelling facts, fallacies, and 
profiles. Continuum encapsulates 
the editorial spirit and vitality of 














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Penthouse: Are concepts like ethics, mor- 
als, and spirituality irrelevant to these sili- 
con beings? 

Jastrow: No, not at all. I think that such 
intelligent beings may be capable of aes- 
thetic perceptions far beyond our imagin- 
ing. The only thing is that their aesthetics 
will not be human. These beings will not 
have a large baggage of emotions. You 
see. our musical and verbal perceptions 
were bred into us for their survival values 
back in the time when we were evolving out 
of the Savannah apes. Forms of life in the 
African savannah environment developed 
selected traits for survival that have nothing 
to do with the needs of today or with those 
of a billion years in the future. 
Penthouse: What would be the purpose of 
the existence of these computer beings? 
Jastrow: That's a big question. I don't know 
what the "kicks" of these computer beings 
will be. No human emotions will be in- 
volved, but there may be other emotions. I 
think that they may find their pleasure in 
aesthetic perceptions akin to our delight in 
music and art and design, and also find it in 
the larger search for order and harmony in 
the universe. Their understanding of the 
harmony of the cosmos and the nature of 
physical reality may transcend ours. Their 
curiosity to discover may be what drives 

Penthouse: If there are life-forms in the 
cosmos that are older and more advanced 
than ours, why have they never made con- 
tact with us? 

Jastrow: I suspect that these other forms of 
life are around, but they don't drop in on us 
every minute. They come down every now 
and then to see how the garden is growing. 
We must get to a certain point before Ihey 
find us interesting. It's almost like dealing 
with children: before you invite them into 
your adult community they must be able to 
talk with you. I don't know whether we have 
reached that threshold. 

In Ihe book of Ezekiel in the Bible, you 
can read a description of what sounds like 
the landing and taking off of a spaceship. 
Ezekiel speaks of seeing creatures with 
wheels with enormous rims and of "eyes ail 
the way around" the rims. He describes the 
noise of their wings, "like a storm." when 
they moved. It's all there in the first few 

I would say that they come down every 
million years or so. In any event, we have 
been sending out a million-watt level of 
television broadcasts for the last twenty 
years, which by now will have revealed to 
fifty or a hundred stars that there is intelli- 
gent life on this planet. And unless they are 
indifferent because we are so juvenile, as it 
were, they should have their replies on the 
way — and these replies should be. con- 
verging on us at about the end of the cen- 

Penthouse: You have said that the day will 
come when, through the use of silicon ma- 

chines, we will completely conquer our en- 
vironment and our natures will become 
gentle and peaceable. 
Jastrow: Yes, i think that is a possibility. We 
could become a race of leisure beings, with 
ail our needs cared for and with our hostili- 
ties — generated millions of years ago on 
the plains of Africa, when aggression was a 
vital component of survival — eventually 
bred out of us so (hat we would not be 

Man's nature was forged in the crucible 
of adversity. Our wits were honed by the 
struggle against all the pressures of the 
environment: cold, famine, disease, preda- 
tors. Our bodies were strengthened and 
developed in that same slruggle over the 
course of a million generations. But as we 
are relieved of those pressures, the mus- 
cles soften and the brain softens. It is the 
pruning action of nature, applied through 
these pressures, that has kept us tuned to a 
high pitch. 
Penthouse: Do we have any examples of 

Mortals cannot escape 

earth, because our life span 

will never be more than 

200 years, and it takes 

perhaps a million years to 

get to some habitable place. 

what happens to man when he is living in 
an environment free of competition and 

Jastrow: Yes. Consider the people who 
moved out from the Asian mainland and 
eventually colonized Tahiti. They found a 
natural paradise with few natural enemies. 
You might expect that under such ideal 
conditions they would be free to create art 
and music and all manner of worthwhile 
things. But when the Europeans found the 
Tahitians, they found a society dominated 
by promiscuity, infanticide, ritual can- 
nibalism, and drugs. The Tahitians had not 
created anything. Instead, they had lost 
many of the skills their ancestors had 
brought with I hem to this new land — writing 
and pottery making, for example. Appar- 
ently, with no pressure to create, man gen- 
erally does not create. 
Penthouse: Then it's better for the artist to 
starve in his garret? 

Jastrow: Well, perhaps not that exactly I'm 
saying that this has been the pattern, as 
revealed in the leveling off in human brain 
size lhat took place 100,000 years ago. 
Man learned to make his way on this planet 
in a much easier fashion than before. 
So, if we develop in the future to a point 

where we become leisure beings, it is pos- 
sible that in such a society the person who 
is dissatisfied — who questions, who up- 
sets fhe equilibrium of what is for all mate- 
rial purposes a perfect world — will find 
himself undergoing societal or perhaps 
political pressure not to rack the boat. 
Penthouse: He'll be told to love his world or 
leave it? 

Jastrow: Yes. That will be the case, more or 
less. So you might find that the innovations 
in music and the arts that could be revolu- 
tionary or even evolutionary might be 
frowned upon or suppressed. In short, if 
you are living in paradise, you can't try to 
change it — you may be ordered out of the 

Penthouse: And will it be at that point that 
the silicon brains take over? 
Jastrow: Yes, because the silicon intelli- 
gence has nothing to do with this history of 
human evolution we've been talking about. 
Its capabilities, from our point of view, are 
unlimited. No natural forces are required to 
keep it honed to a sharp edge. 

Now, I do not know what forces will go to 
work lo limit or expand the capabiliiy of a 
silicon intelligence; they lie far in the future. 
Who can tell what the silicon intelligence 
will do? It might curl up and be satisfied 
with itself and stop progressing. And it 
might not. 

Penthouse: What do you think of the possi- 
biliiy of an all-out nuclear war wiping out 
the human race before the silicon beings 
could take over? 

Jastrow: I do not believe there is a possibil- 
ity of tofal nuclear annihilation. It would be 
necessary to eliminate every man, woman, 
and child on the face of the earth. Even if we 
did succeed in eliminating every form of life 
on the land, we would only set evolution | 
back 350 million years, to the time that the j 
fishes left the water That's the blink of an I 
eye on this time scale, when you consider I 
that we have 6 billion years to go before the I 
sun will become a red giant and vaporize I 
the earth. Even if we wiped out all human I 
beings, the baboons and the raccoons I 
would inherit our niche within 20 million I 
years. Again, this is just the blink of an eye. I 

And if, as is likely, we do eventually deci- 1 
mate the human population with such an ' 
overwhelming catastrophe, I think that the I 
10 percent who might possibly survive — I 
Ihose radi at ion -resistant mutants — would I 
remember that holocaust for a long time | 
and would not make that mistake again. 
Penthouse: Would it then follow that this j 
surviving 10 percent might, as a result of I 
their radi at ion -resist ant qualities and be- ] 
cause of the enormous challenges to their I 
survival on a nuclear-blasted and polluted 
planet, make another evolutionary leap? I 
Jastrow: Indeed. But they would never I 
make the mistake of unleashing nuclear I 
energy in that fashion again. 
Penthouse: Perhaps by that time we could | 
be packing up and going off to live on I 
Mars. What's ahead for us in that area of 
space exploration? 

Jastrow: I think that by the first decade of I 
the next century we'll have a small as- I 









According to Editor-Publisher Bob Guccione, 
who took these pictures and who has been photographing 

Jane Hargrave since she was eighteen (Pentnouse 

July 1975), the twenty-one-year-old 1976 U.K. Pet of the Year 

is "easily one of the most erolically 

beautiful women I have ever met . . . and or 

the mosl interesting. Her physical beauty is classically Englisr 

elegant and aloof, and yet her mind and her 

are ablaze with sensuality" Jane's appeal 

direct and unerring. She is the IK 

of the most popular of all male sexual fantasies 

Igamof lady and whore— the perfect woman! 






Bob rates Jane as one o( his few 

all-lime favorite models. 

"I like the way she moves, the 

angles arid shapes her body makes. 

the intelligent use of erotic 

attitudes and expression, her 

willingness to do anything 

I ask. however bizarre, 

because she trusts my judgment. 

her incredible ability to remain 

ladylike even while 

making explicit love in front of 

a camera as she does in Gore Vidai's 

Caligula" {Penthouse's 

soon-to-be-released, $16 million 

tour de force of life under 

the Roman Caesars). 


Jane has no misgivings about her 

brief but unforgettable role 

in Gore Vidai's Caligula. "It was 

something I never 

dreamed I could do. but I was 

playing apart. I was a 

young noblewoman in the 

court of Caligula. I was a 

promiscuous bitch in a strange, 

sex- charged world, 
doing what any other promiscu- 
ous bitch would do. But I was 

still acting and still very 
conscious ot my responsibility 
to the whole tilm. (enjoyed 
it immensely, but that 
was because I felt I was good 
and because I had played an 
essential, creative part in some- 
thing very grand and 
very important." 

I a promiscuous bitch in a sex-charged world, doing what any other bitt-h wouid do.9 

14* '^USE 




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on the Screen. Jeff Fairclough got out, 
hands deep in smart Burberry, red hair 
waving in the breeze. A man with a hand-' 
held camera and a recordist with a Stel- 
lavox followed. Fairclough and Bev nodded 
to- each other. He had telephoned Fair- 
clough the previous evening. Fairclough 
had once been a colleague, a teacher of 
English until the advent of the new Worker's 
English syllabus. Bev and the team 
marched through the open gateway. The 
strikers put on a great act oi snarling andr 
cursing for the camera. The sound record- 
ist didn't record. Bev led'the way lo the 
■ executive wing. Young Mr. Penn, very ner- 
vous, qame forth to meet Ihem. The Stel- 
lavox man put his headphones on, 
switched on, gave a thumbs up to 
Fairclough, who said: Action." 

"Good morning, Mr. Penn. I'm reporting 
for work as usual." 

"You can't, you know ii, we're closed. 
There's a strike on." 

"I'm not striking. Mr. Penn. I claim my 
rights as a free man. I'm here to work." 

"You. -can't You damn well know you can't. 
Be reasonable." 

"Are you denying me my basic right as a 

"Don't be so bloody stupid. You know the 
position as well as I do. You're in a closed 
shop. You can do nothing about it, and 
neither can I. Can't you at least go through 
the motions, man?" 

"You and I, Mr. Penn. have entered into 
contractual relations— as employer and 
employee. Do you propose breaking that 

"Right," said Mr. Penn grimly. "Come with 

me/ And he led the way (the cameraman 

ahead, walking backwards) to the works. 


.-Faifotetigh, stood' by his cole machine 

among other cold machines. 

"So this, Mr. Jones, is your way of de- 
nouncing the principle of strike action. 
Don't you consider you're being rather old- 

'■'Is justice old-fash ioned 7 Is compas- 
sion? Is duty? If the modern way approves 
the burning to death of innocent people 
witn firemen standing by and claiming their 
workers' rights, then I'm glad to be old- 

"You realize, Mr. Jones, that you're invit- 
ing your dismissal from your job? That, 
moreover, no other job can possibly be 
available to you? That the closed shop is'a 
fact of life and applies to every single. gain- 
ful activity?" 

"The individual worker has the right to 
decide whether or not to withhold his labor 
My curse on syndicalism." 
■ "You've just condemned yourself to per- 
m-niont unemployment." 
"So be it." 

The camera stopped whirring. The re- 
cordist switched off and packed up. "Was I 
all right?" asked Bev. 


"You was fine," grinned Fairclough. "But 
God help you." 

"You was on the telly. Dad." 

Bessie aproached Bev in a frank amor- 
ousness that he had to fight off. Poor kid. 
she wasgoing to be a hell of a problem. He 
■-decided to cool her down by telling her 
what the situation was. It wouldn't spoil her 
Christmas: she'd have forgotten it all by 
tomorrow morning. 

"Listen carefully, Bessie, my love," he 

"Yes, darling, I'm listening. Put your hand 

;No_. I wilt not. Listen, bad times are com- 
ing. I'm going to be out of a job., There's 
going, to be no money coming in at art. not 
even from the National Insurance. They'll 
probably throw us out of this flat because I 
won't be able to pay the rent. The bad times 
are coming because it's my stupidity that's 
making me jobless — that's what they'll tell 
you " 

"Why won't you put 

your hand there?" Bessie 

asked. "Because 

you're my daughter, and there 

are certain things not 

permitted between 

father and daughter;" 

."Who'll tell me? Put your hand there." 

"Your teachers and the other kids whose 
parenis will have told them all about it. But 
you have to understand why I'm doing it, 
Bessie. No man has to be crucified. Jesus 
didn't have to be. But there are some things 
that a man can't submit to, and I can't sub- 
mit to what the unions mean. Do you under- 

"What's croosy whatever it was 7 Why 
won't you put your hand there?" 

"Because you're my daughter, and there 
are certain things not permitted between 
father and daughter. I want you to under- 
stand what I'm telling you, Bessie. Your 
poor dying mother said: Don't let them get 
away with it. And, although ii must seem 
mad to you, that's why I 'm setting myself up 
against the whole power of the unions. I 
can.t beat them, but I can at least be a 
martyr to the cause of freedom, and some 
day, perhaps not till I'm long dead, people 
will remember my name and perhaps make 
" v £-kifTcT6f banner out of it and fight the injus- 
tice that the unions stand for. Do you under- 
stand me, Bessie? 

"No. And I think you're mean. Why won't 
you put your ■" 

The new year came- in with bitter weather, 
Bessie was snug in a* girls' home in Is- 
lington, whence she traveled daily to 
school in what her father, having already 
seen some of her co-inrnales, ironically 
called a virginibus. Bev slept where he 
could — in Salvation Army hostels, in rail- 
way terminals, and, on one occasion, in 
Westminster Abbey. He grew pretty 
wretched, dirty, and bearded. He had ex- 
pected to be able to spend much of the day 
in the reading rooms of public libraries, but 
there were not many public libraries around 
Ihese days, and such as still existed were 
full of old, snoring men. 

"The workers don't need libraries," said a 
kumina boy. "They need clubs." 

"I'd club the bastards." growled another. 
A small gang of them had stopped Bev with 
an. evident view to bashing and robbing. 
Bev fel! no fear,' and the boys must have 
sensed that. He leaned against a torn wall 
poster of Bill the Symbolic Worker, right 
hand in pocket clutching aflic'k knife. He 
smiled and said: "Sunt lachrimae rerum, et 
mentem mortalia tangunt." 

They'd surrounded him on that, examin- 
ing, sniffing, breathing on him. 
"You know Greek, too, man?" 
"Me phunai ton hapanta nika logon. 
Sophocles," said Bev. "From the Osdipus 

.-.-/■It is best not to be born." 

From some of the boys came a deep 
exhalation, as from some satisfying inhala- 
tion. The Kumina leader, black with an 
Aryan profile, pulled out a pack of Savuke 
Finns and said: "You want a cank?" 
"Thanks, but I had to give it up." 
"You out oi a job? Union mashaki?- You 
"Yes, yes, yes." 

There were seven of these kumina boys, 
not all of them black. The leader said: 'Ah." 
For across', the street, an unwise man was- 
walking alone purposively. a man a 
place to go io. 'AN and Tod ," said the leader. 
The two named walked over and tripped 
-■-the man . expertly booted him in ihe left 
side, Ihen frisked him as he lay. They came 
back with thirty five-pound notes. "Right." 
said the leader. "You come, Tod. The rest at 
Soapy's around eleven, okay?" 
"Okay, Tuss." 

SoTuss and Tod. a yellowish, trail-looking 
boy who danced up and down with ihe 
cold, took Bev to the unemployed canteen 
off Westminster Bridge. Here they fed him 
wiih ham sandwiches, sausage rolls, 
macaroons, and tomato soup in a cup. The 
woman behind thecounler said they had to 
show their certificates of unemployment 
before they could be permitted to take ad- 
vantage of ihe low, subsidized prices, but 
the boys merely snarled. Tuss said lo Bev, 
while he wolfed his food: "You ever heard of 
"Japanese? Inventor of a violin method.?" 
. "That's very good. But you're a couple 
letters way off. Violence is more like it. 
Method, yes, a method." 
Tod said earnestly: "The irouble, he said. 



They have so little 
time for each other. 
Yet when they're 
together, time stops. 
And they turn to Cointreau. 
With its hint of orange, 
Cointreau glows— slowly 
turning opalescent on the 
rocks, brilliantly clear 
straight up. Give it as a gift, 
share it. The Slow Glow 


is separating culture from morality. Be- 
cause culture's developed by societies, 
and that makes it preach social values. I 
mean, he means, books don't preach vil- 
lainy. They preach being good." 

"Books shouldn't strictly preach any- 
thing," said munching Bev. "Knowledge 
and beauty— they're outside ethics. Who is 
this Mizusako?" 

"He's in jail somewheres in the States," 
said Tuss, smoking very aromatically. "He 
went the rounds ot the campuses, preach- 
ing disin . . . disint . . . shit, disinterest—- 
shit, shit, shit — " 


■ "Hell ol a mouthful But yes. that's it. Free 
learning, free action. He talked of a UU." 

■'You You?" 

"An underground university. Paid for by 
robbery, which has to mean violence. 
Teaching useless things. Latin, Greek, his- 
tory. We got lousy education, right?" 


"Lousy because it's Labor. Lousy be- 
cause it levels. No clever boys wanted. 
There's certain things it won't allow, be- says they're no good to the work- 
ers. Now it follows that fhe things they won't 
allow must be the only things worth know- 
ing. You get that?" 

"There's a sort of logic in it." 

"We go to school, we lot, till we're sixteen. 
That's the law. Okay we go and we don't 
listen to the crap they call sociology and 
Worker's English. We sit at the back and 
read Latin, 

"We're not in jobs, and we never will be. 
We're not sheep; we don't follow the ram's 
bell. We face a life of crime and violence. 
Culture and anarchy. I wish I could get them 
to fit. Read Virgil and then rip some guy up. 
I don't like — what's the word?" 

"Inconsistency," said Tod. 

"You can't avoid it," said Bev. though un- 
easily,' "if you're human. You're committed 
to crime if you're against the Workers' State. 
My MP'told me that." 

"Crime of two kinds," worried Tuss. 
"Robbing Robin Hood style, like you saw 
tonight. The acte gratuite." 

"Who told you about acte gratuite?" 

"A guy called Hartwell." said Tuss. "He 
talked to us someplace; I forget where. A 
great man for the gin. He told us about 
Camus— a French Algerian guy. a football- 
er, you may have heard of him. This guy kills 
a guy, and then he knows he's a human 
being. He's done. a thing there's no reason 
for doing, and he sees that that's what 
makes him free. Only human beings can do 
the acte gratuite. Everything else, and that 
means the great fucking big universe and 
all the stars, it all has lo follow like laws. But 
men have to show they're free by doing 
things like killing and chopping." 

"What we do isn't gratuite," Tod said. "It 
can't be. If we're antistate, we have to be 
properly antistate. That means kicking 
against the law because it's a State thing. 
Like Latin and Greek are antistate things. 
So violence and Shakespeare and Plato go 
together. They have to. And literature 
teaches revenge. When I read Don Qui- 


xote, I went round slashing every guy that 
wasn't thin. and tall and a bit dreamy. I left 
the little fat ones alone, too." 

"What's that big Greek word you said 
yesterday?" said Tuss to Tod. 


"That's it. Without us how would the 
Christniques get on?" 

Bev's head reeled. All these things hap- 
pening. "Explain." he said. 

"These, kids," said Tuss, "that started the 
UG, or Underground Christ. In that bit of the 
district line that's been closed up. They 
have what they call a love supper, with real 
shagging, boy and girl, boy and boy, but 
the feast bit is only mkate and the odd drop 
of vino. Sometimes we nick it tor them, They 
say the bread and wine is really Jesus. 
Then they go out looking for trouble." 

"Christian violence?" said Bev, now 
ready to believe anything. 

"No, no. They go out wanting to be 
cracked. Then they practice the Christ- 
nique of loving your enemies. That's where 

The Irwin boy lay 

unconscious, near naked, 

bruised, not too 

bloody. It had been a 

multiple pederastic assault, 

a sevenfold entry. 

we come in. We get sort of friendly; that's 
the trouble; don't slash hard enough. Let 
them get their own vino." he said with sud- 
den viciousness. 

"The only things of importance," Bev 
said, still with uneasiness, "are subversive. 
Art is subversive. Philosophy, too. The State 
killed Socrates." 

"Yeah, I know," frowned Tuss. "Crito, we 
owe a cock to Aesculapius." 

"O Kriton," translated Bev back, "to 
Asklipio opheilmen atektruona." 

"Again, again," urged Tuss. grabbing 
Bev's worn greatcoat lapel. "Christ, those 
are the real words; that's really the poor guy 
talking." Bev, who still owned a stylo, wrote 
it down in Roman transliteration on Tuss's 
cigarette pack. Tuss devoured the words; 
then he said; "I get a shiver when I read fhe 
words in English. Right down the back- 
bone. Now it'll be a shiver all over I had to 
bash up those Greeks that ran the stinking 
restaurant in Camberwell. Because ol that. 
Then I found the guy that ran it was called 
Socrates. Mockery, I said, and I put the 
boot in proper." 

Bev shivered inwardly when the image of 
the ravished and lorn Irwin boy came back 
to him. He'd suffered and died because he 

wasn't a character in literature? Or perhaps 
he wanted it. an extreme Chrislniquer? 
Who knew anything of the dark heart of 
man? "Aren't you afraid of getting caught?" 
he asked. "Of being put away?" 

"No." Tuss shook his head many times 
slowly. "Wof scared. It's the final test, to see 
if you can live like alone inside your skull. 
That's one reason for stocking it up. to see if 
it can feed otf itself. That's real freedom, 
being alone in a cell, and there's all your 
brain to travel in, like a country. But nobody 
gets caught. The nguruwes keep out of our 
way. " 

"I don't know the word. Police?" 

"'Pig' in Swahili. The cbanzirim — that's 
Arabic; that's worse — they don't want 
blood on their uniforms. Kriton." he 
began to read, "to ask — " 

"Pay the debt, therefore. Do not neglect 
it," said Bev. "That's how it goes on." 

"Give it me in Greek. Give it me real. I 
want the past in front of me like it was all 
really there." 

"I can't remember the rest." said Bev. 
"Sorry. You're right about the past. We owe 
no debt to the present or the future. Keep 
the past alive; pay the debt. Somebody has 
to do it." 

It was the following night that Bev. frozen, 
came to an abandoned factory off Ham- 
mersmith Broadway. In the factory yard. 
railed and gated off from the street, ragged 
men sat round afire. A reek of charred meat 
flooded Bev's mouth with saliva. The gate 
was open. 

"No room, no room," said a scholarly- 
looking man in a stained and ancient British 
warm, tartan trews, and muddy Welling- 
tons. But his eye was kindly. Bev, without 
invitation, sat on an old oil drum. 

'Antistate?" he said. "All?" 

They looked at him warily. "Your voca- 
tion?" asked the scholarly looking man. Bev 
told him. The man nodded. "My name is 
Reynolds," he said. "I am fifty-nine. Had I 
been willing to keep my mouth shut for a 
month or so longer, I would have retired in 
the normal way and received my State pen- 
sion. Comprehensive School. Willingden. 
Senior teacher of literature, sir." 

"Look, prof, we've heard all this," whined 
a bulge-eyed man with a perfectly round 
head shorn and shaven, as if against 

"You cannol hear it too often. Wilfred. 
Besides. I'm addressing Mr. Jones here. 
The set books laid down for the advanced 
level of the State Leaving Certiticale exam- 
ination were as follows. Poetry; the lyrics of 
a boy called Jed Foote, member of a sing- 
ing group called The Come Quicks that 
sang them; a volume of songs by some- 
body, American. I think, called Rod some- 
thing. Drama; a play called The Mousetrap. 
by the late Dame AyalhaChnstie— still ap- 
parently running in the West End forty years 
after its premiere. Fiction: a novel called 
The Carpetbaggers — or, to be exact, A 
Shorter the Carpetbaggers — by Harold 
Robbins, and some nonsense about the 
errors of social climbing by Sir John Braine. 

I ask you: Literature?' resigned." He looked 
round the circle as if for applause. 

"Most courageous," said Bev. "Might 1 
have a little of that meat there? I'm starv- 

"Lei him nick his own," snarled a black 

"Charity. -charity," said Reynolds. "He will 
do his share of nicking tomorrow, if he joins 
our band. Here, sir. this is chuck steak and 
hard to masticate but nourishing. I think a 
roasled onion rests somewhere among the 
blue bleak embers." 

Don't let them get away with it. Bev's 
wife's voice crackled out of the fire. "What 
do we do?" Bev asked. 

"We wait." said Reynolds. "We wait for 
one of history's little surprises, I propose 
turning in, gentlemen." To Bev he said: 
"This factory closed down when it couldn't 
meet the 79 wage demands. The govern- 
ment didn't find it worthwhile to take it over. 
It was a mattress factory. We found plenty of 
moldering mattresses in the warehouse. If 
you sleep here, you will feel very much like 
the filling of a sandwich. Trevor," he said 
sharply to the black, "you said something 
about knocking off some blankets." 

"Not easy, man." 

"You must really take our situation more 
seriously, Trevor," To Bev: "Have you any 
particular specially, sir 9 " 

"In thieving?" 

"We don't like that word. We prefer 
euphemisms like nicking, knocking off, 
finding, scrounging. Were you ever in the 

"I was born." Said Bev, "at the beginning 
of the Long Peace. In 1945." 

"I see. The army gave me, brief as my 
service was, a wholesome attitude toward 
property. Well, we'll see. Come, let me find 
you a place to sleep." He produced a can r 
dle end and lighted it at the fire. 

The empty hull of the factory was 
cavernous and rusty. It rang hollow and for- 
lorn. Reynolds lighted a smoking oil lamp 
with his end of candle. He showed Bev how 
to sleep — on a mattress with two other mat- 
tresses laid over him laterally. Bev felt warm 
but dirty. "Does one wash?" he asked. 
"Surely, successful nicking depends on a 
decent appearance?" 

"For retail winning, yes, For wholesale, 
tilth does no harm. When a meat truck is 
unloading, you present a dirty shoulder 
and receive a side of beef: then you take it 
into the slore or shop in question and leave 
the back way. Sometimes there are prob- 
lems. We can give it you Ihe easy way to- 
morrow, if you wish. A beard does no harm. 
A caf lick in cold water. But decent dress is 
essential for the knocking off of supermar- 
ketgoods. We have here what we call the C 
and A, Wilfred's little pleasantry — the Coat 
and At. Kept clean and ready in plastic. Mo 
shortage of plastic, plastic everywhere, 
free and indestructible, like God." 

One by one, two by two, the cheerless 
cavern tilled with sleepers. Snores, chokes, 
groans, odd rnuitered or screamed words. 
No life, thought Bev before he too dropped 
off. no life for anyone. CH — ^ 

Wild Turkey Lore : 

Wild Turkeys are masters of 
camouflage and evasion. 
A large flock of birds will lie 
quietly within yards of a man 
passing through the forest, 
and never be seen. 

The Wild Turkey is truly 
a native bird, unique to 
America. And it is the 
unique symbol of the 
finest native whiskey 
in America— Wild Turkey. 




noxious fumes make human labor risky or 
impossible and in places thai are very hot 
or very cold. Robotic drones are now at 
work in all kinds of environments that would 
be unbearable for flesh-and-blood proles. 

In fact, several roboticists believe that 
the day when human blue-collar workers 
are entirely replaced by solid-state slaves 
is not very far off. "With the spectrum of 
technology available now. it would be pos- 
sible to eliminate most of the blue-collar 
jobs today performed by humans within the 
next twenty or thirty years," Engelberger 
maintains, "But," he adds, "because of the 
■ social, political, and economic factors in- 
volved, a more reasonable time is likely to 
be a hundred years." These three factors 
can be reduced to two words: Big Labor. 
The unions know that robots will be replac- 
ing their people on the assembly lines as 
well as in the foundries — and they don't like 
it-. They're already fighting a holding action; 
as of now, a robot can only replace a worker 
who retires or dies. 

Torn Binford believes that 30 percent .of 
the human labor force could be replaced 
by intelligent, sensitive automata within 
thirty years. And Robert Malone forecasts 
totally robotized factories that will need 
practically no human supervision: fully au- 
tonomous robots will oversee production, 

and robot managers and foremen will di- 
rect blue-collar robots to best meet pre- 
programmed quotas. A single human 
could probably manage several factories 
at the same time. 

Present-day industrial robots are drones. 
They are equipped with rudimentary ma- 
chine intelligence, but they lack panache. 
They're as versatile as galoshes and as 
witty as a microwave oven. What America 
wants, needs, and will be turned on by is a 
robot in the home — an interactive, mechan- 
ical Jeeves with a built-in Cuisinart, able to 
greet guests at the door, mix a mean mar- 
garita, pick up after the orgy, answer the 
phone, and be a mobile fire alert and bur- 
glar alarm unit. 

It is no wonder that the home robot is the 
Brooklyn Bridge ot the computer age. Lurk- 
ing behind every digital clock is a con man 
willing to sell you a hunk of tin with a soul 
built in. But caveat emptor: the home robot 
is as close to being reality as Idi Amin is to 
being a humanitarian. For now. that is. 

The major stumbling b-ock is money. Pro- 
fessor Ed Fredkin of M.I.T maintains that 
"even ifwe stick only to the capabilities that 
are reasonable extensions of our present 
state of knowledge, we can make an amaz- 
ingly useful household robot." All that is 
required to build a working prototype of an 
affordable household robot, says Fredkin, 
is a few billion dollars and ten or fifteen 
years of intensive research and develop- 

ment — something similar to the financial 
support and human commitment that re- 
sulted in that one great step for mankind a 
few years back. 

But the total support, both public and 
private, for robotics last year amounted to 
little more than $5 million, The army spends 
that much on cost overruns for mosquito 

With the necessary backing, however 
the home robot could be on the scene in a 
relatively short time. "The robot I have in 
mind," says Fredkin, "would be an an- 
thropomorphic machine with two arms, two 
legs, and a pair of eyes and ears. It would 
stand less than five feet tall, be capable of 
simple, connected speech, and have a 
verbal-recognition capability of a thousand 
words or so. Eighty-eight motors and hun- 
dreds of small computers would go into it. 

"Within the first 'ten years of production 
the typical household robot would be ca- 
pable of performing the following tasks: 
vacuuming, dusting, cleaning, picking up, 
washing, and drying. It could even hang 
clothes on a line, move objects, change 
towels and linen, do simple painting, wax 
furniture, feed the pets, answer the phones, 
and wake people up." 

Fredkin's predictions are partly based on 
the assumption that computer technology 
will continue to advance at its present rate. 
Each year computers are getting faster, 
smaller, and cheaper. Within twenty or thirty 
years computers that today take up half a 




when their work is done. 
:n the leaves turn to red. 


room and cost in the millions will fit on a 
finger and cost about eighty-five cents. 

But the price lag for the complete home 
robot will be high— more than that of .a new 
car. Even so. Fredkin predicts that in the 
(irst twenty years of production 35 million 
robots will be sold, for a gross of approxi- 
mately $500 billion. After that he sees 

cence will assure an annual turnover in the 

Specialized models will lead to two- and 
three_-robot families. Recreational robots 
will play Ping-Pong, throw Frisbees, even 
hustle their owners at pool. Tom Binford, a 
weekend gourmet, looks forward to the 
time that he can create a French-chef 

yearly sales averaging between $60 bilJion^SSfct. with synthetic snout and sensitive 

and S70 billion. "The household robot busi- 
ness alone, not counting industrial robots, 
should be bigger than the auto industry" 

The home-robot boom will be a. 
capitalist's fantasy come true. The only 
humans pul out of work will be homemak- 
ers. They will not complain. 

Millions of jobs will open up in factories 
where the home robots are assembled. 
. Luxurious robot showrooms will open all 
over the country, with saccharine sales- 
men, well-versed in computer technology, 
demonstrating the desirability of domestic 
androids. Insurance salesmen will drool at 
the prospects of insuring robois against 
temperamental transisiors and bucjyv pro 
grams. Two new money-eating sharks will 
enter the solid-state seas of the future: the 
dollar-devouring used-robot salesman and 
the equally carnivorous robot repairman. 

Madison Avenue hucksters will promote 

palate for testing bearnaise sauce. 

For all the soohisticatcd circuitry and per- 
formance of (he projected home robot, 
though, it will be nothing more than a highly 
programmed machine, nol much brighler 
lhan an extremely retarded human. Robot- 
ics is artificial evolution; it will not be com- 
plete until we produce synthetic intelli- 
gence that thinks, or seems tothink. as well 
.as humans do. All the other problems are 
mechanical and soluble. 

Today's state-of-the-art robotic arm, for 
instance, has six articulations from elbow 
to wrist. Although that's a far cry from the 
thirty-seven that a human arm has, it's 
enough tor many jobs, and refinements will 
come in time. Robot eyesight is improving, 
too. Right now Binford is working on stereo 
vision, which will enable robots to see in- 
depth and scan moving objects. That 

robot sales with sex, style, and status-- .gpupjad with infraredcamerasandtheabil- 

" Tty' to judge distance to within millimeters 

will result in a machine vision that in some 

ways is superior to human vision. 

The biggest breakthrough, though. 

with anything that will get you into hock 
order to be the first one on your quadrant to 
own your own robot. The time-tested 
capitalist strategy of planned obsoles- 

would be synthetic consciousness. "When 
people first started attempting artificial in- 
telligence fifteen or twenty years ago," says 
Dr. Charles Rosen, "everyone would have 
agreed that a machine with a little bit of 
simple vision or one that could understand 
human speech would show some real intel- 
ligence. Now these things are beginning to 
happen, and people are asking questions 
about even more advanced intelligence, 
about associative-thought patterns and 
creativity, going up one more level to a kind 
of abstraction human beings excel at. 
These are very difficult problems. They 
haven't been tackled successfully yet, but I 
don't think they're impossible. As far as I 
can make oul from what I've seen, there's 
no end in view to what you'll be able to do 
when you talk in terms of hundreds or 
thousands of years," 

Dan Hillis, an artificial-intelligence re- 
searcher at M.I.T., puts it more succinctly: 
"Though there's no science that tells me it's 
true now. I personally suspect that a sen- 
tient being can be made out of transistors 
as well as out of protoplasm." 

What will the. future be like when man and 
synthetically conscious machine, live side 
by side? The sentient machine will have 
certain advantages over man. It will be able 
to correlate data in nannoseconds (bil- 
lionths of a second) and will therefore be 
quicker on the cerebral trigger than fallible 
flesh-and-blooders are. But it will probably 
lack man's limber biopiasmk: shell. Intelli- 
gence over agility will be the rule for robots 
of the future. 

Richard Brautigan, in his poem "Cyber- 
netic Forest." foresees a future in which 
man is watched over "by machines of love 
and grace." The nanny-robot would be Ihe 
ideal governess for future toddlers. Its 
built-in defense capabilities would ensure 
that no harm befalls its wards. The perfect 
pedagogue, it would teach children every- 
thing from space history to calculus. 
When the kids tire of their algorithmic exer- 
cises, the robot could regale them with 
hoary legends of the early days of space 

An adult version of the future world's 
nanny-robot will be the robotic bodyguard. 
Science-ficlion writer Philip K. Dick sug- 
gests that "with the development of ad- 
vance c: associate artificial-intelligence 
systems, truly thinking computers will be 
able to analyze infon^a: on at a much faster 
speed than humans can. Robot think tanks 
will provide us with accurate predictions 
about present and. future problems, help- 
ing us 'o avoid ,,: esses like oil crises and 
depreciating dollars. Robot prophets and 
cybenerc re gior.s are also a possibility. 
On the personal level, each human would 
have a robotic escort and adviser. As your 
bodyguard, it would protect you not only 
from criminals, but also from natural disas- 
ters and acts of God." Imagine a constant 
companion who would "live" solely to warn 
you of your chances of getling flattened by 
a speeding airbus. 

David Heiserman, author of the highly 

technical tome with the fifties 
lion title Build Your Own Working Robot, 
sees robots as, among other things, the 
superjocks of the future. "What we're going 
iowind up doing is building machines that 
bridge the gap between living and nonliv- 
ing things. I'd love to see a bunch of these 
robots playing football. The beautiful thing 
about the machines I'm talking about— 
self-motivating, goal-seeking robots — is 
that they won't always operate at optimum 
efticiency. They might go out on the gridiron 
and feel colleciively sluggish one day it 
their goal-setting motivation isn't high 
enough." The Dallas Cowboy Androids will 
Have off-games, just like their human coun- 
terparts. Even in the future, the cliche "on 
any given day" will hold true. 

There is a dark side to the athletic an- 
droid as well. The jock-robot might be 
turned into a gladiator for a cybernetic ver- 
sion of bread and circuses. The nasty. 
brutish approach to sentient robots could 
result in a military robot. Robotic infantry 
would make nuclear war more plausible, 
since robots will be able to fight in tactically 
nuked hot zones. 

Philip K. Dick also foresees that robots 
will be used as space explorers. The long 
journey through the galaxy will neither bore 
nor age them. Once they reach a target 
planet, they would be impervious to condi- 
tions hostile to humans. The robots could 
then build the domes and artificial atmo- 
spheres necessary for supporting car- 
boniferous life. Robert Malone sees robots 
as our-representatives to other galactic life 
iorms. We could send these representa- 
tives out in seedships to seek out other life 
forms. Because ol the possibility of mem- 
ory banking, these robots could be 
storehouses of vast, eclectic knowledge 
that, would represent the range of liuman 
scientific and aesthetic activity 

Some roboticists are pleased to think of 
their machines' descendants as the next 
stage in human evolution, "You can even 
see robots as our children — Homo 
machina" says Dan Hillis. "Some people 
see that as a bad thing — that we'll be re- 
placed. I prefer to see it as an extension of 
ourselves, as our children, only much bet- 
. ler than we are in many ways. They won't 
have to worry about groveling for food or 
any of these other squishy protoplasmic 
problems. They can, in fact, go on and be 
even more human than we are; they could 
disinherit the animal in us. And tor our part, 
we could help by putting into them the best 
and most human qualities we have." 

At the end of Unimation's robot promo 
film— Robofs Work for People Who 
Think — the narrator Intones: "Robots don't 
think for us; they only do what we want them 
to do, and anything wilhin their reach is in 
our control. What are they going to do now? 
That's up to you; it's up to ail of us." 

The cliche of the seventies is that the 
luture is now. That's not quite true of robots, 
but they are coming. The robotic future is 
going to be very strange, and it is going to 
be happening very soon.ot— g 

Since when 
do you drink 

Jim Beam? 

"Since I found its best dividend is taste!' 

People like Dr. Clarke enjoy 
smoofh, light, mellow Jim Beam 
for exactly the same reason 
you do: taste. 

For six uninterrupted 
generations now, the Beam 
famity has been making the 
World's Finest Bourbon. 
People like you 
have been drinking 
Beam since 1795. 

1^%0N * aS m °' e ' han ,US ' h ' S 9 ' r,;Sfte ^ ,- ^tf 

gleaming ex- 
panse of the 

main dolphin pool 

and, beyond, the 

beauty of Fraxolata 

Bay, pelicans 

thermals above. 

the car under the shade of 

the bleachers, and as I got c 

I noticed one of the dolphin 

that distance I couldn't tell which- 

ing its head to stare curiously at me. Then 

I spotted Hank, coming my way. 

"Well how-deee! Ain't seen you for the god- 
damnedest long time! Where you been hiding yourself. Max?" 
"In the darkroom. I had a lot of work to finish for the end of 
| term." I was supposed to be majoring in marine biology at Nova 
I College, but photography was taking up more time lately. We 
= walked back to the chikee. The dolphin — I think it was the same 
I dolphin — continued its observation, swimming rapidly around 
^ Ihe pen, lifting its head every few seconds, as if agitated or 
^ excited, but not making a sound. I had the feeling of being under 
I scrutiny, but I had no idea why. I thought the dolphin's behavior 
= strange and made a mental note to get some pictures of it later. 
I "Photographs, hunh? You oughta bring 'em down here some- 

The shade of 
V the hut was 

' cool, and the 

smell, of course, 

was always the 

,ame. Beau was 

stretched across a 

deck chair, his feet on 

the wireless radio. "Hey, 

Beau, look what the tide 

ihed in!" 

greeted me without moving. 
'Care for a beer, Max? Git him one out o' 
the fridge. Hank, and git me another while yer at 
it." I sipped the brew. It still tasted terrible. At least it 
was cold. "Really heatin' up around here, hunh? Gettin' to be 
summer. Tourists gone now. Ain't been doin' shit for business the 
last couple o' weeks." 

"It's just as well, with those porpoises actin' up," muttered 
Hank, popping a tab. He tossed it on the floor, which was littered 
with tabs. My eye wandered to a cardboard box overflowing with 
cans. Then I noticed a movement in the sunlight outside. Be- 
cause of the glare I could not see well, but it seemed as if that 
same dolphin was alternately peering into the dark recesses of 
the hut and splashing water on the dock, as if trying to attract 
someone's attention. 


A caterpillar tour train arrived. Perhaps 
half a dozen tourists got out and.arranged 
themselves in a lump on the bleachers. 

One of the dolphins tossed a shred of 
seaweed onto the dock. The tourists 
pointed and aimed their tinny cameras, as 
if that were something unusual. Beau, his 
back to the door, didn't notice. I felt vaguely 
uneasy. The shiftless, run-down atmo- 
sphere was infectious. There seemed to be 
a nimbus of lethargy hovering over the 
park, although the sun was molten butter, 

"What's the matter with them, Beau?" 

His gaze passed over the pool, above 
the spectators, and into blue space, "1 think 
they know, friend." 

"That the park is closing down?" 

"They sure know somethin's goin' on," 
he continued. "All of 'em been actin' real 
strange, lately. Distant, I guess you'd say. 
'Course, not havin' any crowds to play up to 
doesn't help 'em ... me neither. It's plumb 
discouragin'. 'Twasn't like this last summer, 
not this bad. It's been downhill for some 
while now . . . just gotten steeper, lately. 

"What's going to happen to the dotphi 
when this place shuts down, Beau?" 

"I'm thinkin' about various ways to dis 
pose of 'em," Beau said. "Got an olfer J 
from a place in Jamaica to take three, f 

"The problem with that being. Could ^ 
we get a porpoise to work for a coon?' 
Both men roared. Southern humor, I H 
sadly reflected. Then 1 remembered that * 
Hank was from Atlantic City. 

"Then there's a place in Loozyana that's 
made an offer on a couple o' the others . . . 
but it's too early to tell, Max. Everythih's up 
in the air." He consulted his watch, got up, 
and chugalugged the dregs of his beer. He 
strapped on the mike and grabbed a 
bucket of fish from the sink. He stepped 
from the hut and was lost in lens flare. 

Under Beau the dolphins performed in a 
competent but unexciting manner, not 
slouching so much as they had under 
Hank, perhaps. I watched the show from 
inside the hut. which afforded a rather lim- 
ited view, and afterward strolled onto the 
dock to check out that curious dolphin. A 
pimply junior-high-school student in an Ed 
"Big Daddy" Roth T-shirt was bending over 
the water, snapping his fingers and calling 
in a nasal voice, "Here, Rosco! C'mere, 
Rosco! Aw, come on. you dumb fish . . ." 
The dolphins were ignoring him, since he 
was an unfamiliar object. As 1 stepped be- 
side him, he asked, "Hey, mister, how do 
ya get these dumb things to let you pet 

It flattered me to be mistaken for some- 
body who knew something about dolphins; 
so 1 forgave the punk his crudeness.."For 
starters it helps if you call them by name." 

"You mean, they got names?" 

"Sure, you do, don't you? Now look, it's 


really easy to tell them apart. You just have 
to look at them closely. That one with the 
healed-up scar on her snout, hanging at 
the back of the pen, that's Trixy. She's a 

"How can yuh tell?" 

"There are ways. Now that one with the 
protruding, brown snout, that's Gator. The 
pink chin belongs to Bimbo. It's healing up, 
too, but you can see he's got no scratches 
on him whatsoever, whereas this 
scratched-up old mama in the pen with 
Trixy, that's obviously Ruby. And that mean 
son-of-a ..." 

Wait a minute. 


Ruby!!! I had photographed her months 
ago for my mid-semester paper on the sub- 
ject of "ESP with a Porpoise." She lifted her 
head and gave me an imperious stare. She 

was apparently miffed at having been ig- 
nored so long. I was struck dumb. How 
could I not have recognized her before? 
She was the dolphin peering at me as I 
pulled in, splashing and throwing sea- 
weed. None of the males had greeted me 
that effusively! 

So Beau had heeded my advice! No 
more runs with the Riverboat lor old Ruby! 
No more long hours in that lonely little pen! 
Just a soft life in the main pool with the boys 
for a change! A grin spread from ear to ear 
at the thought, not to mention a certain 
sense of relief. 

"Rooo-beee? C'mere, Ruby! C'mere, ya 
big dumb fish! Is she a girl, too?" 


"I still don't see how you can tell . . ." 

"Experience. Now look, punk, get lost, 
will you? This dolphin and I gotta have a 
talk." He left fast, staring over his shoulder. 
I waded up to my knees, hand extended 
toward the dolphin, which lay on her side, 
staring at me, righting herself occasionally 
to breathe. "Ruby! Good to see you here, 
' old fish! Come on over for a stroking ..." I 
kept eye contact with her. as if my gaze 
alone could entreat her to move within my 

, grasp, but Ruby would not come near me. 

After the Riverboat returned (sans dol- 
phin), I rushed to Beau, who was slicing 
fish for the next show. "Why didn't you tell 
me you'd moved Ruby up here?" I asked. 

"Hmm? Oh, well, I guess it just kinda 
slipped my mind, Max. She been up here 
couple o' weeks now." 

"I bet she's nowhere near as horny!" 

"Yeah, they went at it for a couple o' days 
straight when I first put her in with the 
males." He chuckled. 

"You're not- sending her out with the 
Riverboat again?" 

"I shouldn't hope so. It's a pain in the ass 
movin' her." 

"Was she threatening to take off again?" 

He sliced the last fish. With the blade of 
the knife, he pushed the pieces off the 
chopping board into the bucket, where 
they fell with a wet sound, becoming indis- 
tinguishable from all the other pieces of 
fish. As in life, so in death. Dead mack- 
els' eyes always looked so sur- 
prised. They seemed to be asking, 
Why me? 

"Welllll . . . that an' other things, , , 
the Riverboat's gonna stop runnin' 
soon . . . figgered the change might 
be good for her . . .Idunno. . .just got 

the urge to do it." 
I "Would it be all right to go in with her?" 
I "I guess. Who's in the pen with her?" 
/ "Just Trixy." 

"Dunno how she'll behave with another 
animal around, but you can go ahead." 

Ruby still wouldn't come near me. I de- . 
cided to be patient. I waded out to the deep 
and floated. She swam over to me, staring, 
and submerged. There was no sign of her 
until I felt something soft pushing against 
my foot, and her head broke water in front 
of me, a gleam in her eyes. 

Ruby was masturbating on the waffled 
rubber soles of my sneakers . . , 

You must understand that, up until this 
moment, all my responses to Ruby's ad- 
vances had been predicated on the reali- 
zation (or rationalization, if you will) that she 
was sexually isolated from her own 
species. I had placed myself, in the cate- 
gory of "surrogate male dolphin" and let 
her rub off, and that was okay with me as 
long as no one else was watching. Now, 
however, I found her repeating the same 
behavior in a pool with no less than six 
other dolphins, five of which were of the 
opposite sex, a situation that should pro- 
vide an opportunity for every sexual expe- 
rience a female dolphin can think of. Beau 
had said as much. 

Yet she still wanted me. 


We floundered around in the water, that 
dolphin and I , and no less was I floundering 
inside, The carefully justified rationale I had 
built for justifying my unasked-for role a 
Ruby's animated scratching post _was 
crumbling like sugar cubes, not just be- 
cause of her continued masturbation but 

because of the vibes she was giving oft. 
When I stretched out my hands to embrace 
and stroke her, she outmaneuvered me 
without ever breaking contact with my foot. 
She would not let me touch her anywhere 
except at the critical point. The fact that I 
was wearing sneakers, rather than wading 
in barefoot, seemed to make no difference 
to her; she thrust and rubbed with the same 
abandon she had displayed when rubbing 
on my toes. She so far outstripped me in the 
water that I was literally at her mercy. This 
fact, was becoming more apparent with 
each passing second. Her eyes were cold 
and distant, and there was none of the erot- 
ically seductive behavior she had em- 
ployed last time. 

I felt like a puppet; I felt manipulated, 
toyed with, as if I were something to gratify 
herself on — anything! 

She took off when t tried to stroke her with 
my hand, only to return to my feet. She 
seemed to insist that I play a totally passive 
role, and I found that intolerable. Obvi- 
ously, I had broken some unwritten 
rule of dolphin conduct, but how the 
hell could I be held responsible? I 
tucked my knees against my chest 
and (loafed in the embryonic posi- 
tion. She circled slowly, whining. 
That position put my face underwater, . 
and Ruby knew that I, like her, had toB 
come up for air. But she had no inten-lt 
trans of waiting. She thrust her snout vig- f 
orously in back of my legs, trying to force ^ 
them down, and when that failed to budge 
me, she nudged me in the ribs, first tick- 
lishly and then so hard that I nearly lost my 

I straightened out, gasping and 
shocked. Ruby pushed me to the wire 
fence that separated one pen from the 
next. I wrapped my fingers in the wire mesh 
and dug in with my toes, hanging to the 
fence with my head out of water and all my 
extremities either occupied or covered. 
Enough of this let-me-rub-my-cunt-on- 
your-sneaker-or-l'll-drown-you bullshit; I 
just wanted her to settle down and be a 
good dolphin. Like Rosco. Now what would 
she do? 

Ruby hovered close and surveyed me; I 
could feel her highest "sonar" frequencies 
running up the back of my neck, making 
the hair bristle; and if I ducked, I could hear 
her clicking and whistling simultaneous- 
ly — to Trixy, staying out of the game? To 
me, uselessly? To herself? It didn't matter, 
did it? I thought I had her licked. From now 
on I was in charge of the situation. 

I had underestimated her again. She 
worked her snout into the gap between my 
back and the fence and began to wiggle. I 
tightened my grip, determined to cling. She 
shoved harder, splashing, battering at my 
exposed ribs. I let go with one hand to push 
her away, which was a mistake, since there 
was nothing I could do and she redoubled 
her efforts. Damnit, that hurt! Abruptly I let 
go and tried to deliver a slap right across 

her blowhole that would tell her, No! I don't 
want any part of this! But the water ab- 
sorbed the impact of my blow, and it only 
raised a splash. She surfaced in front of 
me, undaunted, and resumed her mastur- 
bation. So much for that little experiment. 

There was no eroticism here, only bestial 
lust, it seemed, lust heedless of its part- 
ner's pleasure or pain, lust centered solely 
on its own extinction at any price. I feft 
used. I felt raped — as much as a man can 
ever feel raped. As we spun slowly in the 
water, I began to consider seriously 
whether Ruby's time in solitary might not 
have been too much for her, whether she 
might not have gone off the deep end, lost 
all her marbles. Or was she simply con- 
fused? Or was it I who was confused? 

The idea that she might be enjoying this, 
whatever her motives, didn't occur to me, 

because/ wasn't. 

Perhaps if I tried to communicate with 
her teiepathically . . . 

Hey, Ruby! I You are making me uptight! 
This, for your information, is nor the way we 
humans do it — not often, anyhow! Not 
when we feel loving and kind toward our 
partners! We snare this experience! 
There's mufual positive feedback! If you 
would just let me participate a little, let me 
touch you, I could make you feel better than 
the rubber sole of my sneaker does! 

I felt her receiving me. For a moment she 
stopped and regarded me with a siartled 
expression. I gently grabbed and held her 
dorsal fin. With my other hand I reached 
down and around and began to stroke her 
genital slit, flush-warm, rubbery, smoother 
than the finest blade could ever render any 
human crotch. No hair. No stubble. If you're 
going to be a bitch about getting your rocks 
off, we might as well do it this way, I 
thought. Then I felt her pelvic-floor muscles 
contract. There was a flow of hot liquid over 
my hand. Ruby was pissing on me. 

As a well-disciplined student of marine 
biology, I knew that it was important not to 
let my-human prejudices make snap judg- 

ments for me. Dolphins, living in a fluid I 
environment, nalurally do not share our 
prejudices against elimination and excre- 
ment, When dolphins swim in formation, 
those behind probably taste the diluted 
excrement {a shreddy liquid) of those for- 
ward and it seems no more disgusting to 
them than pissing in the pool does to us. It 
had even been suggested in a paper pub- 
lished by Borealis in the Journal of Existen- 
tial Mammalogy that the taste of dolphin 
excrement might serve as an infraspecies 
form of nonverbal communication, a way for 
the dolphins to monitor each other's emo- 
tions or state of health. For all I knew, piss- 
ing on one's lover might be considered the 
height of dolphin eroticism. 

But it sure as hell didn't seem that way at 
the time . . . 

I don't remember feeling either pleased 
or disgusted, just surprised, and I let go of 
Ruby She returned to what she'd been do- 
ing. I wondered what the offspring of a dol- 
phin and a Sears Jeeper would look like. I 
would have given my camera and both 
sneakers to know what was on Ruby's mind 
at that moment, but there was not a 
trace — not the faintest glimmer — of con- 
tact, only this remote and exploitative lust. 
I I retreated to the shallows and squatted 

■ with my feet tucked under me, neck- 

■ deep, trying to figure the situation out. She 
I went to the other side of the pool and 
I sulked. Trixy avoided bothofus.asshehad 
' all through the massage session. I didn't 

grok any of it! I was nowhere near grokking. 

"Looooeeeep-looo!" Ruby made a plain- 
tive call— in the air, for the benefit of my 
ears— and then, "Loooeeep-too!" A rising- 
falling slash call with a lisp in the middle, 
like Von Verlag's description of the alleged 
"distress call"! Under the circumstances 
that was understandable. Perhaps . , . 
"Loooeeep-loo!" What would happen if I 
imitated fhe sound, as I'd done so success- 
fully before? 

"Loooo-eep-iooo!" Acutely aware of how 
lousy I sounded. Like trying to whistle a 
bird's song. But she immediately swam 
over and raced by me, half a meter away, 
rolling out of reach when I tried to touch her. 
Again she approached; again we missed 
each other. Loooeeep-loo, orrrk!" Like a 
groan at the end. Of disgust? Don't be so 
maudlinly anthropomorphic, Zargotti! At 
this point, everything — logic, reason, 
marine biology, science, telepathy — had 
failed me, and there was nothing to fall 
back oh but a feeling in my guts. It was not 

While we stood deadlocked, Beau came 
over. "I'm gonna let Trixy out and put 
Bimbo in here, Max. Trixy's goin' in with 
Satan." He unlatched the side gate, ges- 
tured Trixy through with a wave of his hand, 
and closed it. He opened the gate to the 
main pool, and in swam the boisterous 
boy-dolphin Bimbo. 

Instantly the situation changed! Ruby 
ceased her mournful whistling, swam right 


up to me, and laid f)er head in my lap! I was 
flabbergasted, even though I should have 
been used to such abrupt mood swings by 
now. I stroked her head for a few seconds 
before she rolled, presenting me with her 
genital slit. The vulva was flushed and 
hot-pink. She was monomaniacal. I felt 
dismal and disgusted. "Go on, get away 
from me, you bloody dolphin. Move!" I said, 
shoving at her flukes, splashing water in 
her face, and generally making it known 
she wasn't wanted. Reluctantly, she swam 
to the far side of the pen. 

Bimbo decided to have some fun with 
me. I saw him turn toward me. picking up 
speed, and knew that he was trying to 
throw a scare in me, knew also that he 
would not injure me, canceled my involun- 
tary reflex to cringe, and at the last possible 
second, twenty-five centimeters from a 
dead-on shot into my solar plexus, he 
veered abruptly and shot off on a tangent, 
as I hoped he would, and I felt only his eerie 
slipstream over my skin, an echo of the 
power that had missed me. 

Then they both swam up, begging to be 
touched. Now that Bimbo's in here why 
doesn't she make it with him? I thought 
ruefully. Suddenly, there was violent 
splashing as Ruby smashed him with | 
her flukes. The message was un- 
equivocably, "Get lost," and he got it and 

And she lunged on me! I put up my I 
arm to ward her off, but she slid over it, ' 
painfully battering my face with her snout, 
forcing me backward, underwater, with her 
200 kilos on top of me! I managed to shove 
her off or rolled out from under her or some- 
thing. I didn't deter her! She lunged again, 
battering me harder this time. Having a 
200-kilo dolphin trying to bowl you over is 
no joke, especially one as angry as Ruby 
seemed to be. It was no longer lovemaking, 
however selfish. There could be no illusion; 
it was rage. 

Her bony snout slammed into my temple, 
and the impact hurt, goddamn it, "God- 
damnit, baby!" I had all I could to do lift my 
arm and shove her off, and I slapped her on 
the flank hard as I could. Smack! She re- 
treated to the center of the pool, eyeing me 
baleful ly. 

What I did next sounds a little crazy, but I 
was trying to exercise a scientific point of 
view. I knew that there must be reasons for 
Ruby's behavior that, to her dolphin mind, 
seemed perfectly logical. Even if impenetra- 
ble to me, the reasons must be perfectly clear 
toher. Therefore, the breakdown in communi- 
cations was my fault and had been since I 
arrived that day. Was this violence frustrat- 
ed love play or violence of another sort? I 
fell as if I had to give her one more chance. I 
didn't feel as if the experience was over. 

I got up and waded into the deep. She 
sidled up to me, and I felt her bump against 
my foot before she fell on me. I made no 
attempt to defend myself. I did not move. 
Ruby shoved me down. I caught my breath 

as the water closed over my mouth, and I 
felt my ears pop. Everything went murky as 
she pushed me into the mud bottom of the 
pool, raising a - cloud of sediment. In a 
rather detached way J wondered if she 
meant to hold me until my air ran out. She 
did but didn't keep me from getting to the 
surface. Gasping, I headed for the shal- 
lows, but as my feet touched bottom, she 
thrust herself on top of me again. As I went 
under, conflicting emotions swirled across 
my brain — fear, anger, pain, rejection, con- 
fusion most of all. Then I was thinking, Why 
am I putting up with ail this shit from a 
goddamn dolphin? 

"Get off!" I roared, surprised at my own 
explosion, slapping her rubbery flesh 
wherever I could, standing up to my full 
heighf. She slid off me, splashing on the 
rocks of the shallows, cutting herself, and I 

dragged myself out of the pool and sat for a 
long while with my head in my hands. 

When I looked up again, the tour train 
was discharging its nine sweaty passen- 
gers on the far side of the pool and Ruby 
was lying placidly at my feet, waiting for me 
to open my eyes. 

Beau was just around the corner. He was 
trying to fix the jumping hoop, taping a new 
loop of rope to replace the old frayed one 
that Bimbo had broken. He looked up as I 
came around. "What th' hell happened to 


"That!" He pressed a finger against my 
temple, producing a dull ache. "Hit yer 
head on somethin'?" 

"Other way 'round. Ruby did it." 

"What? You're kiddin'! You must'a gotten 
her playin' rough with you!" he said with a 
grin I thought most inappropriate. 

"There didn't seem to be very much play 
going on!" 

"Well, sometimes, friend, they'll get 
rough, you know and you gotta be ready for 
■it. How d'you think 1 got all these scars? 
Shootin' narcotics? Nope, them dolphins 
done this to me. They don't seem to un- 

even if we are smarter." 

"She pushed me to the bottom and held 
me there. What does that mean?" 

"Mean?" He seemed puzzled. "Why, it 
don't mean shit in so far as I know, Max! You 
sure are a great looker for meanings, 
'spect you find 'em under any rack! Quit 
askin' me what it means when they do this 
or that! I dunno! Like I said, askfter if \ 
gotta ask anybody! It's just her way of 
playin' with ya . . .Shedoneittome, some- 

I grew irate. "Beau, I know you find my 
questions sometimes peevish and annoy- 
ing, but you must understand I am trying to 
carry on legitimate scientific research 
against the most overwhelming odds! 
readily admit I don't know the first damn 
thing about those crazy creatures, but I'm 
willing to swear on a stack of Bibles that 
Ruby was not playing when she did this to 
me! She was too fucking violent for p/ay!" 
"Well, all right, friend, you kin believe 
anythin' you want to, but that don't 
mean it's so, and it don't mean you 
gottagopesterin'me about it! You talk 
about your important work? I got fif- 
teen mouths to feed, seven dolphins 
and eight humans, self included, and 
lately we ain't been eatin' half so good 
nor so regularly as these here goddamn 
I fish, with business bein' what it is. So if 
! you'll excuse me, I'll get back to my own 
work!" Crushed, I turned to go. "Do take a 
look at yerself in a mirror, though. That's a 
nasty bruise she give you." 

The skin was black and blue, but it wasn't 
broken. Ruby was nothing if not judicious. 
She never hurt anyone more than she had 
to to get her message across. I watched 
the show, and then I went back to see tl 
silly dolphin. Trixy was with her, but only 
Ruby swam up to me and hovered below 
the catwalk, easily within reach. I extended 
my hand toward her, She backed off. 

1 collapsed inside. Now that the adrena- 
line was wearing off, my temple began to 
throb and all my pain and puzzlement 
floated to the surface. 

In that moment Ruby lifted her head, and 
I noticed the fire was gone from her eyes. 
She approached, took my hand in her jaws, 
and oh so gently mouthed it, looking into 
my eyes. "I'm sorry," she seemed to say" 
I found my anthropomorphism ludicrous, 
but there it was. "All right. Ruby, it's all right." 
I stroked her gums and scratched her 
tongue. She rolled away from me and went 
tothefarendofthepen.byTrixy. I sat down, 
took off my sodden sneakers, and dangled 
my toes in the water, hoping that she would 
return, but it was Trixy that came over. She 
opened her mouth in order to bite my foot. I 
pulled back. She waited. I put my foot back 
in, and she began to squeeze. 

When it started to hurt, I kicked her with 
the other foot and left. I fell for that trick 
before, and a dolphin that can't come up 
with a new trick is dull indeed. O+na 







Thirty-five questions which tell if you re apt to adapt 



There are two things about the future that 
you can always predict: (1) it is headed this 
way, and (2) it's bound to contain surprises. 
Nowadays the future seems to be arriving 
faster than ever before, and the surprises it 
may have in store (such as nuclear war and 
global atmospheric pollution) seem more 
disconcerting than problems of the past. 

.All of this affects different people in dif- 
ferent ways. Some people revel in the un- 
certainty and change that the future brings 
with it; others freak out. If you tell one per- 
son that we'll be even more mobile' in the 
future than we are today, he may make 
plans to buy a summer house on the planet 
Jupiter. If you tell the same thing to another 
person, he may merely feel more dis- 
oriented and rootless than he already does. 
If you mention that the pace of scientific 
discovery will continue unabated and that 
the flow of new information will grow faster 
than ever, the first person may go out and 
buy himself a computer; the second may 
conclude glumly, "Jeezus. that means to- 
morrow I'll be comparatively dumber than I 
am today." 

, this quiz 'may give you an idea of how 
well you'll deal with future shock. The ques- 
tions are designed to measure how adapt- 
able and creative you are in the face of 
stress and uncertainty. A high score on this 
psychograph does not necessarily mean 
that you will tiehappy in (or with) the future, 
but it suggests that you are likely to land on 
your feet when the future starts dealing out 
some of those shocking surprises. 

Researchers are still not certain whether 
certain types of change are more disorient- 
ing to humans than other types are, and 
they're not positive how fast the rate of 
change must be before it starts to affect us. 
But they do know that change and psychic 
well-being (or the lack of it) are closely 
linked. "Both change and mental-health 
problems are pervasive in the contempo- 
rary world." says Robert H. Lauer. a sociol- 
ogist at Southern Illinois University and one 
of the foremost investigators of future 
shock. According to Lauer. his research 
."has suggested that the crucial variables 
are rate and kind of change rather than 
change per se. It has also suggested that 
social change is somewhat more important 
than change-in-life circumstance-s for 
generating high stress levels." 

Current research also indicates that cer- 
tain types of people cope with stress and 
change better than others do, and it's from 
this body of data that the following ques- 
tions were drawn. Psychologists, psychia- 
trists, and sociologists, in their efforts to pin 
down the "coping personality," have de- 
vised all sorts of investigative projects. Re- 
searchers from the Menninger Clinic sim- 
ply went and asked people, "Who's the 
most mentally healthy person you've ever 
known?" From the answers, they distilled 
traits that are common to people who adapt 
and adjust to the type of shocks that the 
future may bring. Psychologists from the 
University of Manchester in England have 
studied R.A.F servicemen stationed on 
desert islands in order to find out what kind 
of man adjusts best to radical changes in 
his environment. Social scientists at the 
University of Stockholm are charting the 
behavior of a group of Swedes through 
their entire lives in order to learn who does 
and who does not cope well with change. 
Back in our own country. Dr. Frederick llfeld 
has studied the lives of 2.200 Chicagoans 
in the most large-scale attempt to date to 
pin down successful "coping styles." llfeld. 
who is a psychiatrist at the University of 
California Medical School at Davis, told us: 
"There are four or five coping styles. Some 
people, for example, try to avoid problems 
and are resigned to change; others seem 
to provoke ongoing conflicts in their lives, 
But the people who seem to cope best with 
change are those who consistently take ac- 
tions that they hope will lead to optimistic 
results. If there's any single relationship 
that stands out, it's that the more optfmistic 
the view one takes of the future, the lower 
the level of stress is likely lo be." 

It's research like this that has yielded the 
healthy list of questions in this psycho- 
graph. If you answer them honestly, you 
should get an idea of how healthy your 
prognosis for the future is. 

t. When difficulties arise in personal rela- 
tionships (and when you know your 
side of the issue is the correct one), are 
you more likely to (a) look for a com- 

■ promise, or (b) hold out until your terms 
are met? 

2. Do you (a) like to talk things out. or 

(b) prefer to keep problems to i 

3. Sit back and compare your life with the 
lives of other people you know. Does it 

(a) bother you that other people's lives 
are more exciting, dynamic, andfii 
ciafly secure than your own, or 

(b) seem as though your own life is 
so bad. even if it doesn't always com- 
pare favorably with the lives of others? 

4. Do you often get discouraged about life 
in general? (a) yes (b) no 

5. We often hear people say such things 
as."i'm so busy that I don't even have 
time to think." Would you say that this 
statement characterizes your own life? 
(a) yes (b) no 

6. Do you (a) tend to wait for time to rem- 
edy difficulties, or (b) prefer to force a 
solution through your own actions? 

7. Would you (a) say that you are basically 
a curious person, or (b) be more likely 
to agree with the old adage, "Curiosity 
killed the cat"? 

8. Do open-ended projects frustrate you? 
In other words, are you more likely to 
prefer tasks that have definable ends 
and produce immediate results? 
,(a) yes (b) no 

9 Do you try to avoid difficulties by look- 
ing at the bright side of things? (a) y" 

10. Would you say that, financially, you are 
(a) as well off as you expected to be at 
your age. or (b) worse off than you ex- 
pected to be? 

11. Do you worry quite a bit about the 
skyrocketing cost of living? (a) yes 

1 2. Do you feel that you must be successful 
in just about everything you do? (a) yes 

13. Do you (a) generally finish what you 
start, or (b) find that your life seems tc 


14. If you lose a favorite possession, do you 
tend to brood about Ihe loss? (a) yes 

15. When things go awry in your daily life, 

(a) are you usually able io pinpoint the 
specific cause of your difficulties, or 

(b) do the causes of your difficulties 
seem obscure? 

1 6. Does it bother you if someone calls you 
a nonconformist? (a) yes (b) no 

17. Do you like gambling? (a) yes (b) no 

18. When you disagree with someone, do 
you feel compelled to voice your dis- 
sent? (a) yes (b) no 

19. Do you often find that the goals you set 
for yourself tend to be unachievable? 
(a) yes (b) no 

20. Do people seem to seek you out for 
companionship? (a) yes (b) no 

21. Would the idea of going into a com- 
pletely different line of work bother you? 

(a) yes (b) no 

22. Do you (a) enjoy making decisions, or 

(b) dislike having to make decisions? 

23. If you were traveling in aforeign country, 
would you be more likely to (a) 
whatever the local people eat. oi 
(b) seek out food similar to what you 
at home (for example, ketchup on youi 
fried eggs)? 

24. Do you dislike having overnight guests 
because your routine is disrupted? 

(a) yes (b) no 

25. Over the years have your hobbies and 
interests (a) changed and evoived. or 

(b) remained relatively constant? 

26. Would you say that you're a self- 
confident person? (a) yes (b) no 

I 27 Do you think others see you as a seif- 

confident person? (a) yes (b) no 16. b 

17. b 

28. Do you feel that you are a person who 18. b . 
"gets things done"? (a) yes (b) no 19. b 

20. a 

29. Doyouthinkthal other people view you 21. b 
as someone who "gets things done"? 22. a 
(a) yes: (b) no 


30. Do you derive pleasure from (a) a wide 
variety of interests, or fb) a small 
number of specialized interests? 

31. Do you (a) tend to think of people as 
individuals, or (b) tend to peg them as 
members of specific ethnic, racial, reli- 
gious, social, or economic groups 
whose behavior is relatively predicta- 

32. Would you say that most of the mistakes 
you've made in your life have been 

(a) major, or (b) minor? 

33. If given the choice, would you prefer to 
watch and/or play (a) team sports like 
basketball, football, and hockey, or 

(b) individualized sports like" tennis, 
boxing, and skiing? 

34. Would you say that you are primarily an 
(a) introvert, or (b} extrovert? 

35. Which of the following statements 
comes closer to summing up your view 
of life? (a) I feel responsible for what 
happens in my life. I blame myself for 
the foul-ups and applaud myself forthe 
successes, (b) Our lives are in the 
hands of fate, which alone decides 
whether we'll have good lives or bad 

The following answers are those most 
likely to be chosen by the man who is 
flexible, adaptable, and best suited to 
deal with whatever the future has in, 
store for him. 

1. a 

6. b 

11. b 

2. a 

7 a 

12. b 

3. b 

8. b 

13. a 

4. b 

9. b 

14. b 

5. b 

10. a 

15. a 

Give yourself three poinls for each of your 
answers that agrees with those on the 
above list. 

If you scored between 75 and 105 points. 
you are probably highly flexible and should 
adapt well to whatever the future holds. 
You know how to roll with the punches. 
You are a survivor. In normal times til is 
is a salutary attitude. You work well 
with the people around you and adjusl 
easily to changing times. However, there 
are periods in history when people like 
you can cause a lot of trouble. If all those 
Germans hadn't been so flexible, so willing 
to adapt in the 1930s, a man like Hitler 
might never have gotten a foottjold. If the 
future should develop in a similar pattern, 
your own willingness to compromise and 
to bend in the face of an ill political wind 
could place you squarely in the camp of 
the bad guys. 

If you scored 36 to 72 points, you fall in 
the normal range. You have your flexible 
days and your inflexible days. You'll com- 
promise'on some things but won't budge 
on things that are important to you. 
Chances are that you'll muddle through the 
future like the rest of us, but if things be- 
come too distasteful, you'll stand up and 
complain vociferously. That's not a bad 
way to be. 

If you scored below 36 points, you may 
have a tough time in dealing with the 
changes that the future has in store for 
you. Your apparent lack of flexibility could 
make you a prime target for future 
shock. Nevertheless, men with your brittle, 
independent frame of mind are usually 
the people who make life interesting for 
the rest of us. I might not want you on my 
basketball team, but you might make a hell 
of an artist, writer, musician, or scientist. 
People like Beethoven and Einstein weren't 
the mosl flexible guys either, and they 
probably would have scored horribly on 
this questionnaire. So you're in good 
company. CH — g 

Two warning lights no 
car should be without. 

Fuzzbuster will warn you there's radar 
ahead, just like brake lights warn you that the car 
ahead of you is slowing down. 

Fuzzbuster picks up all types of radar. 
Whether it's X-band, K-band, Y-band, the new 
experimental bands, or the sophisticated KR-11, 
your Fuzzbuster covers them all. 

What's more — you need a Fuzzbuster be- 
cause radar can't identify your car from another 
car that is moving at the same speed. Not only 
that, radar doesn't always register accurate 
speed readings. Highway signs, hills, even 
trees — all interfere with radar's accuracy. 
That's why it's important you 
know radar is up ahead. You have the 
right to that warning. You have the 
right to use a Fuzzbuster. 

So join the hundreds of 
thousands of people who are seeing 
the light of Fuzzbuster. 




Manufactured by Dectrolert Inc., Troy, Ohio Distributed in Canada by Lyntronlcs, Inc., Toronto. 


humans, abducted the- anc led them into 

taken into separate rooms, where-each was 
plared or- an examination table and exam- 
ined thoroughly by unusual medical de- 
vices. Both had pieces of skin scraped 
from their arms. After a time Ihey were re- 
turned to their car and told that they would 
lorget everything. They didn't regain 
awareness of their surroundings until they 
had driven for' many miles. 

Because they had been separated in ihe 
crafl. ihe tapes of Betty's recollections 
uno'Di hypnosis differed from her hus- 
band's. Betty said she had talked, to. the 
man she believed was the leader. She 
asked questions about where he and his 
craft were from. He showed her a map of a 
group of stars. 

'And theio were cu'ved "ies going from 

T-v - , ; ■ ■ . lo-akec out to a local 
newspaper, made national headlines, and 
appeared in full in a book by John Fuller. 
Interrupted Journey, published in 1966. The 
star map was reproduced. Astronomers 
examined il and dismissed il as '"near ng- 
less. That seemed to be the end of that 
ccnlacioe story 

Then, in 1970, secret radar reports of 
Pease Air Force Base in New Hampshire 
became available. They disoosoc that on 
the night the Hills said they had had their 
close encounter, radar had. picked up a 
UFO landing and later departure at enor- 
mous speed in the area where the Hills had 
.said they had been abducted. 

And out in Oak Harbor Ohio, a third- 
grade Schoolteacher named Marjorie Fish 
began to work with Mrs. Hill's star map. 

j was drawn by 
of background 
geometric posi- 

thousand stars. Oriv forty-eight stars out of 
that thousand are believed capable of 
supporting life oh a planet like earth; you 
are left with forty-eight viable stars out of 
the thousand. 

"Now the lines that Betty Hill connected 
on her map connect only those- stars that 
belong to the subset of forty-eight poten- 
tially life-supporting stars, rather than any 
others in the thousand. That's a really 
strange coincidence, because Betty Hill 
knew nothing about astronomy. There was 
no reason at all why she should have con- 
nected those particular stars. Her map is 
amazing because of those lines. Why 
should those lines connect only the stars 
that are viable in terms of supporting life 
and not any of the. others in the one 

Among serious UFO investigators, par- 
ticularly nuclear physicis: Stanton Free- 
man-, there exists a strongly held belief 
that UFOs are extraterrestrial spacecraft. 
Dr Hynek agrees t h -* it s possible out He 
resists that sort of speculation'. "The people 
who are the greatest Detractors of the UFO 
phenomenon." he says, "fail to see il as a 
phenomenon. They take the equation that 
UFOs eaual Utile green men trom outer 
space, arc! ".nc-y sneer. The question is not 
whether UFOs are visitors from outer 
space. The Question is. What are UFOs? 
Let's investigate that first, then go on to 
.consider where they may be coming from." 

Our government and most of the gov- 
ernments of the world publicly deny that 
UFOs are worth studying even while they 
secretly study them. Now, however, it ap- 
pears possible that the U.N. General As- 
sembly may sponsor such a scientific 
study. Last year, after a delegate who had 
seen a UFO requested that the United Na- 
tions investigate the phenomenon which 
has refused to die in more than a quarter- 
century, the General Assembly contracted 
for a presentation of the evidence. It is 
scheduled to be given in mid-October Dr. 


Hynek is a consultant to the project. It a 
being put together by Lee Spiegel, a New 
Yorker who has produced TV shows about 
UFOs and wrote and produced a recording 
for Columbia Records, "UFOs: The Credi- 
bility Factor," on which people who have 
seen UFOs and scientists involved in UFO 
research describe their experiences. 

"We all hope the United Nations will fi- 
nally make the breakthrough," Spiegel 
says, "and order a worldwide, objective 
scientific investigation." Part of the evi- 
dence Spiegel hopes to present is a re- 
corded statement by Astronaut Gordon 
Cooper about a film of the UFO that his 
'crews photographed, a film that has been 

Cooper doesn't speak out too often on 
UFOs. He has recently revealed that he 
saw "several hundred UFOs in Europe 
while I was a test pilot" stationed in Ger- 
many in the early 1950s. He and other pilots 
chased the objects "that were actually 
shaped like saucers," but they were at too 
great an altitude for the jets to reach. And 
Cooper has also recently commented on 
one of the most persistent rumors in UFO 
research: that intelligence agencies have 
suppressed the fact that at least one UFO 
crafl fell to earth and the bodies of the 
occupants were recovered and autopsied. 

"I never could believe those slories," Dr. 
Hynek says. 'As a scientist, I must have 
evidence that can be tested. But these Sto- 
ries keep coming up with fantastic 
monotony. Someone Knows someone who 
brought the cadavers to Wright-Patterson 
Air Base, someone knows someone who 
performed the autopsy, and down the end 
of the line the information evaporates. 
People say they can't give a deposition 
about it because they're under military or- 
ders. But it's hard to believe that so many 
people could be fabricating :nese stones, 
which are so similar and consistent. Again, 
it's an opinion not based on evidence, but 
the whole thing is very consistent with the 
idea ot government secrecy over all these 

Through the years there also have been 
persistent reports about the "Men i 
Black" — atermlhathascometobeused to 
describe a strange event experienced by 
some people who have reported UFO sight- 
ings. Two or three men, usually dressed in 
dark suits, visit the UFO witness. They flash 
credentiais that appear to be from an intel- 
ligence agency, or they leave that impres- 
sion in their remarks. They confiscate 
photos and other evidence, such as soil 
upon which a UFO has reportedly landed. 
They warn thai the sighting should not be 
discussed publicly They frighten witness- 
es who made the sighting. And they vanish. 

"I still get reports about the Men i 
Black," Hynek says. "We do get reports 
every once in a while about intimidation. 
Again, it's all Consistent with that feeling 
that is so hard to prove, because if there is 
evidence, it is being kept secret . . "that 
feeling that the areas of government con- 
cerned know more than they admit and are 
not telling us what they know. "CH — jj 


are never blended. 

Neither is 

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Wine experts know blending can 
improve the taste of an ordinary wine. 

For example, a tart wine can be 
mellowed by mixing it with a soft wine. 
Or a light wine strengthened by adding 
wine with more body. 

But a connoisseur still prefers the 
individuality, character and finesse of a 
wine that's the product of a single vine- 
yard and harvest. 

That's why the Great Wines are 
never blended. 

And neither is Old Forester. 

We want it to taste like no other 
whisky in the world. 

Like Great Wine, Old Forester 
achieves its rich, golden color and distinc- 
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the unique way it's matured in charred,^ 
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tions. Not from blending. 

f t's a slow and expensive process. 

But while we've always known 
blending can make our job easier, it's not 
going to make our whisky better. 

The Great Whisky Made Like Great Wine. 


EARTHA KITT: F'om sultry sex symbol 
io fiery antiwar crusader. Eariha Kift' 
had remained- an enigrranc igu'e n 
popular music. Now, Kit! emerges 
'triumphant as the star in 'the Broadway 
musical Timbuktu! Vertamae Grqs- 
venor talks to-Kitt about her controver- 
sial life 

VISIONS OF GLORY: To most of us. 
Ins Jehovah s Witnesses am |js*. the 
■strange people who stand on sneer 
corne's hawking The Watcbtawer, Bui 
to Barbara Harrison; the Witnesses 
' were '-a terrifying and- all -encompass - 
".'trig way of lite that tore families asun- 
der 'and destroyed lives. aM ?n the 
name of Jehovah and his impending' 
destruction oi the worid. 

ROSALYN YALOW: A Nobel Prize- 
■•'.■inri'-.g soier-'iisi who raised two chil- 
dren, did housework-, and kept a 
kosher kitchen? Rosalyn Yalow. the 

quintessential symbol of the liberated 
working woman,, shies away from 
being identified as just thai. Elizabeth 
Stone aces a surprising interview with- 
a' premier scientist of our times who 
' refuses to toe the feminist line. 

WINTER WARM-UPS: in October, the 
first gusts of winter come blowing 
along to remind us to dig out our Arctic 
gear. If last year's leggings leave you 
■ cold, check out' ViVa's choice of cozy 
coats, snuggly sweaters, and bad- 
weather boots. 

TENDER MERCIES: Tragedy comes 
in many guises. For lb-:: Coursers 
tragedy arrived in the shape of the 
sharp soining oropeller Of an put- 
oeard ir.ctor. cutting through muscle 
and bone, vein and sinew. transfo r m- 
ing a strong, healthy woman into a 
helpless, embittered nvalid. Roseilen 
Brown tells the .story of the hidden re- 
serves of love and courage in a family 
thai has no tomorrows. 

PLUS: Advice on how to fascinate 
men. from' a nineteenth-century' 
courtesan, ard bath- accessories :o 
turri your humble tub into a private lux- 
ury spa. -OH — a 


was beginning io wish I'd brought a good 
book along when I finally perceived a small 
throng of hooded spirits milling about in the 
distance. Staring intently into their midst, I 
spied a face that looked vaguely familiar. 
The body on which it sat— a grossly over- 
weight one — separated from the rest and 
headed slowly, deliberately, in my direction. 
As it did so, my own body was again trans- 
mogrified, this time into a realistically im- 
perfect replica of the old one. For this and 
some other reason I felt oddly grateful. 

It was only when the hooded spirit had 
waddled within a few yards of me that I was 
able to determine who it was: Al Grossman, 
late publisher of Scrote magazine and the 
last person in limbo I wanted to run into, I'd 
promised Al a smut piece some years 
back, had drawn a paltry advance, which 
I'd promptly invested in drink and drugs, 
had turned in a few rough pages, then had 
stalled him off until he finally fell fatal victim 
to an (unrelated) gastrointestinal attack. To 
my credit, I'd felt little remorse at his pass- 

"You," he grunted. 

'Al," I greeted, feigning concern, "how's 
death been treating you?" 

His face assumed the familiar martyred 
mien beloved by prosperous schlock 
magazine publishers. 

"Where's that piece you owe me?" 

"Al, I gave you that piece six years ago. 
Or most of it, anyway," 

He reached deep into the folds of his 
robe, produced a slim, tattered manuscript 
I recognized at once, and began reading 
the lead paragraph. 

"'When I first received the assignment, 
my initial response was decidedly ambiva- 
lent. Well, not ambivalent, perhaps, so 
much as ambiguous. On second thought, I 
guess you might say I was of two minds on 
the matter.' " 

He looked at me accusingly 

"Now you tell me: what kind of lead is 

"It's a stream of self-consciousness," I 
offered in my defense. "It's the lead I al- 
ways use." 

He returned to the text. 

'And this: "Take me," she said, with a 
serious smile.' What the hell is a 'serious 

"It's oxymoronic." 

"Well, in the future," he snapped. "I want 
more emphasis on the oxy and far less on 
the moronic." 

'Al, there is no future," I felt compelled to 
point out. 'At least not as far as you're con- 

"Listen mister." he leveled, "you're pretty 
damned Jucky to be working for me at all." 

"Same old Arrogant Al,' " I sighed. "You'd 
think if nothing else your death would at 
least have taught you a little humility." 

"Don't talk to me about humility," he 
huffed. "I'm humble. Humbler'n you." 
' So saying, he lumbered off. 

My initial relief was swiftly displaced by 
renewed anxiety as several other hooded 
spirits approached me. Among them were 
my crooked tax accountant, an ex-girl 
friend, and my boring old Uncle Louie, 
who'd succumbed to a rare case of termi- 
nal tedium some years before. I was torn 
between attempting a getaway and staying 
put, the better to find out exactly "what 
gave." As escape seemed out of the ques- 
tion, I decided to opt for the latter. 

"It's like this," Uncle Louie volunteered, 
without my asking. "We're supposed to 
ease your transition into the afterlife. If. that 
is, you're really dead. A lot of them, it turns 
out. aren't. If you're one of those, then I don't 
know what we're supposed to do." 

"What do you do?" I asked. "Here. I 

"I have a pretty good job," he said. 

"You mean you still have to work for a 

"Well, only for a time, of course: eventu- 
ally, you retire. You can even retire early, if 
you want. Of course, you pay for it in re- 
duced annuities." 

"Then what?" 

"Most of us move into a little sort of re- 
tirement village — you know? — where it's 
pleasant. And then, of course, we pass 
away, generally quietly, in our sleep or 

"You die?" ' 

"Well, only for a lime, of course: eventu- 
ally, you're rehired. It you're lucky. I knew 
one guy, he had a great job. Then he died. 
Then he came up here and got a great job. 
Then he died again. Now he's got a job 
that's only fair. It can happen." 

"And that goes on forever — dying and 
getting jobs. I mean?" 

"Pretty much forever." he nodded. 

The afterlife, as Uncle Louie described it, 
was not quite what I'd envisioned. I was 
about to press him for further information, 
particularly re the availability of unem- 
ployment-insurance benefits, when a 
small, elderly man with trembling hands 
and a frankly demented stare — some sort 
of courier or messenger, evidently — ■ 
unceremoniously interrupted. 

"This the new fish?" he asked. 

"Journalist." I corrected. 

"B.L. wants a word with you." 

"That would be the Being of Light." Uncle 
Louie explained. "He pulls a lot of strings 
up here." he added. "Better go," he ad- 

I was about to give thought to several pos- 
sible courses of action when I was abruptly 
transported from the dimly lit lobby to a 
bright, white space dominated by a bril- 
liantly luminous specter. Slender, stately, a 
mite over six feet in height, the Being of - 
Light proved an impressive sight. It was an 
appraisal he apparently shared, as he 
quite obviously enjoyed the transfixing ef- 
fect he had on me, refusing for several 
lengthy, self-echoing moments even to ac- 
knowledge my presence. Though I'd been 
in countless similar circumstances with any 
number of executive editors, 1 found this 

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4300 W. 62nd Street 

Indianapolis, Indiana 46206 

A Division of Howard W. Sams & Co.. • 

situation even more unsettling than sitting 
in Mel's tiny writer's chair, anxiously await- 
ing The Word. 

As he seemed perfectly content to 
radiate indefinitely, I took it upon myself to 
break the stasis. 

"I'm from the press," I announced, clear- 
ing my throat and the air, "and I was won- 
dering if you wouldn't mind telling me what 
it's all about." 

I waited with no excess of breath for his 
perfect, unimpeded reply. 

7 ash the questions around here," he 
finally 'spoke,' with some irritation. "Be- 
sides," he shrugged, "I'd be lying if I an- 
swered that." 

"You mean . . .?" 

"Look." he said. "I know my job, and I 
think I'm pretty damned good at it. But this 
is just one small sector, and what goes on 
outside it I honestly couldn't tell you. I'm 
well aware that you have a story to do, but 
They're very strict about that. It's a god- 
eat-god world." He sighed. "But if it's ques- 
tions you want. I'd be more than happy to 

He proceeded to rattle off a series of 
questions I understood without his actually 
asking, though the only ones I could later 
recall were these: Can analysis be worth- 
while? Is the theater really dead? Who 
killed Sloane in the kitchen? 

"But enough of this," he said. "Care to 
join me in the screening room?" 

Sensing my ready assent, he led me 

across the brgh:. white space to a dark, 
cramped room with threadbare carpeting, 
a small screen, several rows of uncomfort- 
able seats, and not nearly enough 
ashtrays. He located a reel of film and 
began threading it through a projector. 

"This's only a rough cut," he remarked, 
"but at least it's in Sensurround. It's about 
time someone exhibited a little sense 
around here." 

I looked wistfully at my watch. 

"I don't get paid by the laugh," he said, "if 
that's what's worrying you. Take a seat," he 
added sharply 

Dousing the overhead lights and lower- 
ing his own luminosity a bit, he screened a 
poorly focused. Genetically edited exercise 
in cinema verite apparently assembled 
from my life. Rather than stressing the high- 
lights (admittedly few in number) as Mel 
had presaged, its uncredited auteur had 
gone out of his way to place a marked (I 
might even say undue) emphasis on 
scenes of failure, trustration, and humilia- 
tion: one moment I was tumbling down a 
flight of stairs, landing flat on my five- 
year-old face; the next I was standing be- 
fore a crowd of jeering peers, my pants 
around my eighi-year-oid ankles. The film 
continued in this fashion before finally run- 
ning out. I experienced a strong desire to 
follow suit. 

"That's only Part I, of course," the Being 
of Light informed me. "It gets better." He 
paused. "Well, not very, actually. In fact, it 

^H Wr^ ^ *^l H!^ ^^^B 

^H ^py ; ^H 

^H ■ /^B 

HP?! ~^M ' 

■ (j vs. . ■ , ■ l/^j - ^ u 

gets downright repetitious. Unless we can 
sell it directly to TV. I'm afraid wa might have 

to shelve it completely. The audience for it 
just isn't there. Or wouldn't be, soon 

"Do you do much TV up here?" I asked, in 
search of subject-changing small talk. 

There was more than a hint of pride in the 
affirmative nod that followed. 

What next? I wondered. 

"What say we skip the rest," he said, as 
though reading my mind, "and move right 
on to the 'blooper' reel?" 

Thai suggestion arrived as something of 
asurprise. It seemed to me that what we'd 
just witnessed constituted a pretty fair 
'blooper' reel in its own right, and I said as 
much to the Being of Light. 

"You think that was something?" he 
asked. "That was nothing," he said. 

To illustrate his point, he ran a grainy; 
soundless, black-and-white loop that fea- 
tured most of my major erotic failures and 
many of the minor ones as well. While I sat 
through it in silent chagrin, the Being of 
Light found it much to his liking, snickering 
softly whenever one of my more flagrant 
faux pas flickered before us. He was read- 
ing a crude, hand-lettered flash card — 
"Coming Too Soon in a Theater Near 
You!"— when the film suddenly and vio- 
lently snapped. 

"Damn," he said, inspecting the dam- 
age. "That's the third time this week." he 
complained, with a rueful shake of the 
"head." "You'd think if they could put a man 
in the afterlife, they could spring for a new 

By the time we ventured again into the so- 
bering glare of the bright, white space, his 
anger had dimmed to dull depression and 
we walked the length of the unchanging 
lightscape in uneasy silence. It was only 
after we'd traveled some distance that he 
deigned to speak to me. 

"I want you to know it was nothing per- 
sonal back there." 

"That's okay" 1 replied. 

It was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. 

"That's not what I meant." he said, sulk- 

"I was only . . ." 


"You don't suppose . . .?" 

"Not at all . '. .," he muttered, trailing off. 

Feeling ill equipped to cope with the 
complex emotional shifts of a Being of 
Light — particularly one who'd seen so 
many movies — I walked a few feet behind 
my enigmatic host, on whom I'd yet to get a 
solid "make." He certainly wasn't Jiving up 
to his "fun guy" rep; that much seemed for 
sure. If anything, his approach seemed 
workmanlike to the point of indifference; his 
style, evasive in the extreme. Was he, I 
wondered, .afraid of telling more than he 
knew? If so, it boded ill for my piece. We 
continued walking until we reached the 
border or limit of which Mel had spoken. 

"If you look straight ahead," he said, 
suddenly brightening, "you'll notice that 
we're gradually approaching a sort of bor- 


der or limit. Well, not a border or limit, I 
guess, so much as a door, wall, fence, rail- 
ing, barrier, barricade, balustrade, portal, 
threshold, gateway, turning point, cordon, 
Rubicon, line of demarcation, or circumval- 
lation, depending on your terminology. Be- 
yond it lies the afterlife proper," 

As he spoke, I felt mixed emotions, con- 
fusion ranking among the most prominent. 
What with my mock operation having been 
botched, I wondered whether I wouldn't be 
following him beyond the "point of no. re- 
turn" after all. Mo sooner had that question 
coagulated in my mind, however, than the 
Being of Light turned and granted me a 
long, hard look. 

"Not on your life," he hissed. 

Without further warning, I found myself 
hurtling backward at a breathless pace, 
out of the bright, white space, through the 
dimly lit lobby, and into the tunnel or void, 
where I received a rude surprise: hurtling 
just as rapidly in the opposite direction was 
Mel "Happy" Feller, executive editor of Joie 

"Gastrointestinal attach ,: he ih-L.k-c. 

"Is the assignment still alive?" 

"Better check with the new editor." 

"Who's taking over?" I wanted to know. 

But too late ... by the time my words 
had formed, he'd already faded into the 
distance. Within moments, and much io Dr. 
Enswell's annoyance, I was lying alive and 
awake in my hospital bed, requesting ni- 
trous oxide. 

It was at this point that 1 decided to scrap 
my usual lead and plunge straight into the 

"It wasn't so much as you might imagine, 
this being-dead business, I mean," it be- 
gan, "but somehow much different from 
that- The overall feeling was so bizarre that 
it was really unreal. One moment you're 
alive somewhere, the next dead, some- 
where -else. You go through a sort of tunnel 
or void, 1 guess you might call it (a 
thesaurus may come in handy here), and 
people you used to.know in the past, well, 
you meet them again, though they haven't 
changed all thai much. You body alters 
drastically at least twice, especially the first 
time. Did I mention the Being of Light? 
Imagine, if you will, something you've never 
seen before and couldn't envision even in 
your wildest flights of fancy, only he's all lit 
up to boot, like an Xmas tree — to put it 

"Uh, looks fine." said Mel's replacement, 
idly twirling his massive gray sideburns 
and simultaneously scanning my copy. 
"Great, great. I'll get back to you on it as 
soon as 1, uh, can." 

■He helped me out of the tiny writer's chair 
and showed me the door. It looked quite the 
same as 1 remembered it. 

I looked forward to the March edition of Joie 
magazine with ill-concealed anticipation. If 
anything, it proved even more revealing 
than I'd had any right to hope. I mean,, 
never for a moment had I ever once sus- 
pected that Farrah wore a wig.O+-a 

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days when Jack Daniel made them to obsetve 
special occasions. 

One was for winning the Gold Medal at the 

1904 World's Fair. And another, in 1896, on 

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He even had his nephew make a special 

bottle for his favorite hotel, the Maxwell 

House, in Nashville. 

But when it came to 

whiskey, Mr. Jack insisted 

on charcoal mellowing 

every drop. He was too 

good a whiskey man 

to change that, no matter 

what the occasion. 






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Lem Motlow, Prop., Inc., Lynchburg (Pop. 361), Tennessee 37352 

Placed in the National Register of Historic Places by the United States Government. 



tronomJc observatory on the far side of the 
moon, one that will see out to the edge of 
space and back to the moment of crealion. 
I think that will be followed, in ten years or 
so, by the establishment of a small colony 
on Mars: men and women with offspring 
born on Mars who will be unable to come 
back to the earth, because they will not be 
able to survive the pull of earth's gravity. 
They will become an offshoot of Homo sa- 
p/ens, But they won't be a very large colony, 
because the conditions are very demand- 
ing on Mars and few people would want to 
leave this familiar environmenl for that terri- 
bly harsh climate. I do not think that any 
part of the solar system will become heavily 

Unlike the planets, the stars and the life 
around those stars are worth contacting. 
And that will happen — but not to us, not to 
flesh-and-blood beings. 
Penthouse: Is there no possibility of having 
generation after generation, all born in a 
spaceship, traveling lo some other solar 

Jastrow: That's the "space ark" idea. I think 
it's a possibility, but not a good one, be- 
cause it's just not in the human psyche to 
step aboard a craft from which you will 
never emerge alive, sustained only by the 
knowledge that your descendants a 
thousand years hence may or may not 
reach' some other inhabited solar system. 
Penthouse: What about Dr: Gerard K. 
O'Neill's proposal of building gigantic 
space colonies, metal worlds that contain 
earth and growing things, man-made 
planets to which thousands might emi- 

Jastrow: Well, I think-that O'Neill is doing a 
lot of valuable, pioneering work in driving 
home the meaning of the Cope.rnican revo- 
lution, namely, that the earth is just a small 
speck in space. 

But I disagree with him in his judgment of 
human nature. I think it is contrary to man's 
psyche ever to live or want to live in a hollow 
steel tube in which the horizon curves up 
and not down. I don't think anyone will ever 
follow O'Neill into these steel cylinders. 
And I'm confident that the Congress and 
the people will never support such a ven- 
ture in the foreseeable future. 
Penthouse: We have talked of the possibil- 
ity of other inhabited planets. But science 
has even suggested that ihere may be 
another universe, an "anti-universe" involv- 
ing antimatter. Could you explain? 
Jastrow: Antimatter is a kind of matter that 
no one would imagine exists. Scientists as- 
sumed ihe existence of this antimatter after 
discovering, in 1932. that there are antielec- 
trons. or positrons, in cosmic rays. This is a 
form of matter, a pariicle like the electron 
but with the opposite sign of electric 
charge, just as a photographic negative is 
ihe opposite of its print; thus the prefix 
"anti." Later we found antiprotons, and with 
antiprolons and antielectrons you can 

make "anti-afoms"; and collections of 
anti-atoms are antimatter. There are very 
few such antiparticles in our universe. But 
since we have found small numbers of an- 
timatter particles-, we can deduce that, in 
principle, a whole universe could exist near 
ours in which every hydrogen atom of fhal 
universe is an anti-atom — with a positive 
electron circling around a negative pro- 
ton — that is the direct opposite of our hy- 
drogen atom. 

Now of course, if there were beings of 
antimatter outthere somewhere, they could 
not "join" with us. If you met one and shook 
hands with him, you would both disappear 
in a blinding fiash of blue energy, since 
matter and antimatter annihilate one 
another on contact. We'll probably never 
meet those individuals, but according to 
the laws of nature, they could exist some- 

Penthouse: How do we know from what 
point the universe began expanding? 
Jastrow: There is no such point. The uni- 

It seems unlikely 
that we are unique and alone 

in the universe, favored 
by a creator who chooses to 

have life on this 
planet and on no other. 

verse, though ^finitely compressed at the 
moment of creation, is nonetheless always 
infinile in extent, There's a double "infinity" 
in there, which always throws my students. 
One infinity is hard enough to grasp— two 
is too much. The best I can do is to say that 
the universe is infinitely compressed. 
which sounds as though it's packed into 
one point: but it is not packed into one 
point, because it is also infinite in extent. 
Penthouse: Is this "packing in" the same as 
that occurring in so-called black holes? 
Jastrow: Well, if the oulward-movin.g 
galaxies would slow down and come to a 
half and Ihen collapse again — all under the 
inward pull of their own gravity — the uni- 
verse would bear some resemblance to a 
black hole, because a black hole is some- 
thing that holds everything unto itself by its 
fantastic gravity. The force of gravity is too 
weak, as far as we can tell, to make ihe 
universe collapse. So far as we know, the 
universe will expand forever. Even if that 
were not true, it would be a poor analogy to 
relate the original universe lo a black hole in 
space, because a black hole is a star that 
has collapsed on itself and is squeezed 
down to a point; it exists in a definite place 
in space and has a center. But the universe 

has no center: no matter how far you travel, 
yo.u will never reach the "edge" of the uni- 
verse. No matter where you are and in what 
direction you look, everything is the same. 
Penthouse: The terms "by chance," "by 
accident," "at random" crop up repeatedly 
in your writing. Does this suggest that you 
don't believe there is a guiding hand in the 

Jastrow: Well. I do believe that there are 
forces at work in ihe universe which have all 
the attributes normally given to God: the 
forces beyond the reach of our present sci- 
entific inquiry that are immortal, omni- 
scient, and omnipotent. But what these 
forces are. I do not know. 
Penthouse: Then how does Robert Jastrow. 
stand in relation to God^ 
Jastrow: Well I'm an agnostic in religious 
matters. A study of astronomy reveals that 
there was a beginning to the universe. 
which itself was a consequence of forces 
whose nature we cannot discover. And that 
brings me to the edge of a belief in God , but 
I am unable at this time to step over that 
line. At the beginning, some prime force 
must have set it all in motion, but I don't 
know anything more' than that. 
Penthouse: Let's come back to earih for a 
moment and talk about your two major 
projects at NASA, First, you are working on 
a weather forecasting system that could 
predict weather three months in advance. 
Jastrow: Yes— but not, say, the weather in 
Los Angeles on a given date. The 
prediction— thirty, sixty, or even ninety days 
in advance— will be for the average tem- 
perature and rainfall, to a useful degree of 
accuracy, over an area the size of, say, the 
cornbelt or Ihe Midwest or New England. If 
you are deciding what to plant, it is invalu- 
able to know whether you're going to have a 
cool wet summer a hot dry summer, a hoi 
wet summer, etc. That information is like 
gold. Now, if you want to know whether you 
should take a flight to Chicago, we would 
not be able to tell you ninety days in ad- 
vance. That information could only be given 
twelve to twenty-four hours in advance. 
Penthouse: Is there any single factor or 
discovery in science -hat stands out in your 
mind above everything else you have 

Jasfrow: Two things. One is the proof for the 
so-called big-bang theory — the moment of 
creation — because it indicates that what 
we call scientific knowledge is very limited 
in its scope. There is a deeper knowledge, 
perhaps possessed by others in the uni- 
■ verse, which we also will possess someday 
That is- a very exciting prospect. The other 
remarkable fact is how far down the scale 
of evolution we are in the cosmos. We are 
newcomers in the universe — closer in 
time to worms and jellyfish on the earth than . 
to ihe elders of the galaxy 

This is the new scientific perspective on 
the meaning of human existence. We have 
much to learn. All our impressive ac- 
complishments will pale into insignificance 
compared with what has been done by 
other, older beings. Perhaps they will share 
that wisdom. That also is exciting. CH— h 

=4J ' 

"You're right, Mr. Filmore, you 60 have the most impressive case of crabs I've ever seen." 









W creeps' Sick of bem 

Tracy Cabot, swore off ba: 
she wenl looking ft 
Guy— and found him ! 

America's future fads and crazes are 

happening right now all over 

. the state of California. Follow the 

adventures of Forum author 

Carolyn See. who learns to cope with :a 

swinging new sex life, a dozen 

new therapies, and an all-over tan. 

II yo.u'veever watched what 

women write on bathroom walls. Forum 

brings you 'Women in the John;" 

in which women share their 

most private thoughts about men-. 

sex. and each other. Compiled 

by SusanneShaw. 

People are still asking "Open Forum" 

Editor Rachel Gallagher whether 
or not those letters are real . Once and 

for all she replies to the cynics. 

revealing the effect that "Open Forum" 

letters have had on her private life — ' 

and yours! 

.'.■■■■'I.- '■■;.■ change positions, with me on my 
back, she squatted over my cock, her back 
to me, and slowly lowered her ass until it 
completely engulfed my cock. She lay 
back on top of my chest and had Michael 
move between her legs so she could get 
him into her cunt. Dale knelt by us and 
leaned over our faces, making his cock- 
available to us-. I continued massaging my 
wife's tits, still nervous about getting it on 
with a man. My wife reached over with her 
hand and peeled back the foreskin of 
Dale's poised cock, revealing a shiny 
lead. Then Dale leaned forward. 
and my wife slipped the mushroom head 
into her mouth, sucking it as a baby sucks 
tit. I watched her suck and stroke Dale's 
cock. She could do nothing more than 
twitch her hips — they were so locked be- 
tween Michael and myself — and I could 
feel Michael's cock inside her and his easy 
strokes. Gradually, the pleasure was over- 
whelming her, causing her to breathe 
harder. Her heavier breathing, coupled with 
the physical pleasure Michael and I pro- 
vided her, caused my wife to stop sucking 
Dale's cock until she climaxed. Once she 
did, her breathing returned to normal, and 
she returned to nurse Dale's cock. 

I knew my wife was experiencing more 
pleasure than she ever had in her life. The 
good feeling that I had for her, along with 
my own pleasure, brought me to the point 
where I could hold back no longer and I 
came deep inside her ass. I lay there after- 
wards, feeling her body rock as Michael 
slowly built up the force of his own climax. 
After Michael came, I was able to get up 
and clean myself off. 

When I returned from the bathroom, my 
wife, still going full bore, was on her side, 
doing her best to help Michael get it up 
again. Dale lay full length behind her, kiss- 
ing the back other neck. I knelt by her legs, 
spreading them apart, and massaged her 
very wet cunt. I could see Dale's cock, hard 
and inviting between her thighs. I moved 
my now wet hand between her legs and 
took his cock in my hand and stroked it. 
Date rolled my wife over on top of him, her 
legs outside of his. I tooka deep breath and 
lowered my mouth to Dale's cock, letting 
my lips encircle its shiny surface. I could 
feel the extraordinary smoothness of the 
skin. (I had never thought about this be- 
fore.) I sucked that cock exactly as / like 
mine sucked: nibbling, kissing, tongulng 
the length and discovering my ability for 
deep-throating. When Dale began to 
twitch, I stopped and moved up to suck my 
wife's cunt. I sucked her for a few minutes. I 
then brought Date's cock up with one, long 
suck and pressed it into- her cunt in the 
firelight I watched his cock moving in and 
out of the soft folds of her cunt. I kissed, 
sucked, and fondled them both as they 
moved together — her clit was popped out 
and made itself very available to me. When 
Dale Came— and .it was easy to see even 

apart from the sounds he made — / pulled 
his cock out and licked it clean. So it went, 
through the night and right into the dawn of 
the next day. 

. From this and past experiences, my wife 
and I believe we have returned to that Initial 
sexual thrill we first had when we met Be 
they male or female, anyone we bring home 
is mutually shared; so no more jealousy. 
What's more, we have been able to grow 
enough so that our individual needs are 
also met. For example. In our city there is a 
bathhouse for couples, and when my wife 
gets horny (which happens before and 
after her period), we go there, and she can 
experience as many men as she desires in 
succession. At one time she would not do 
this, because sr)e had the feeling of shame 
ingrained In her of being "used" by so 
many men. Now sh'e feels it just takes that 
many men to satisfy her physically. In turn, 
she feels really relaxed after experiences 
with women and looks forward to. a woman 
"for a- bit of sensuality unattainable with a 
man." as she puts it. 

Together we have learned that the only 
limits in relationships are those one's mind 
imposes out of personal (shoice. not those 
given. by society that go unexperi- 
enced. — R.R. 

How refreshing to read a letter from such a 
liberated husband! Many married men go 
for threeways only if the threeway involves 
two women. Nothing wrong there, but why 
should the wife always be the one to share 
her man with another woman? Threeways 
can swing both ways, and there's no reason 
to put all the weight on one side of the bed. 
Share and share alike. 

About three years ago, I met this really 
nice-looking girl, but I met her the wrong 
way — through a lot of guys. These guys 
told me she was really a great girl to be 
with, and I soon found out why. 

I ran across a. friend of mine one night 
while I was riding around, and after a while 
he said, "Pull over to this phone booth for a 
second." So I did, and he made a call. He 
told me to drive around for another ten min- 
utes or so and then to go to this street about 
a half mile from where we were. After driving 
awhile, we puiied omo this sired, and there 
stood this girt (til call her Robin) in a pair of 
jeans and a button-down top. I pulled over, 
and my friend Alan got out and let Robin sit 
between us. I started driving around. After 
-about five minutes, 1 looked over and saw 
Alan unzipping his pants. The next thing I 
knew, Robin was jerking him off. After she 
had played with him for quite a while, he put 
his hand behind her head, and she went 
down on him for almost five minutes. 

Alan asked if he could drive for a while. 
We switched positions, and almost as soon 
as I got situated she was in my pants and 
giving me my first head job. It was great! I 
came in a hurry, and she swallowed it and 
went down for more. 

This went on for weeks until we wound up 
one night in a. motel — Robin, me, and 


■■ja uyeizu-J'-o p d'_:asci22 year old 
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seven other guys. I was the last one in bed 
with her. When I got on top, something hit 
me. /thought. "What am I doing?" I was live 
years older than she was and still a virgin. I 
couldn't screw her. I didn't want to use her. I 
really wanted to make love to her, just her 
and me — no gang-bangs. 

Well, since this incident, after talking with 
her, she has quit and gone "straight." I 
would like to take her out more than ever 
now. It's been an entire year that I've been 
after Robin, but she seems to think every 
guy has heard about her reputation. I'm still 
a virgin, and I'm trying to find a way of 
convincing her that I love her and want her 
to be the lirst girl I make love to. Xaviera, I 
really respect Robin as a person, and I 
want to help her forget her past. What 
should I do?—F.VD. 

From reading your letter, it seems to me that 
you have a rather peculiar attraction to this 
Robin, and I'm not quite sure if that attrac- 
tion is something called "love." How well do 
you really know her? I can understand your 
desire for privacy when it comes to sex, 
particularly at the moment you're to lose 
your virginity, but could it be that your in- 
tense desire to make love with Robin now 
has something to do with having missed a 
good thing, i.e., the gang-bang? I imagine 
that your refusal to screw her at that time 
resulted in some ridicule from her and the 
other guys. Maybe now you need to prove 
them all wrong, not only by making love to 
her but by tailing in love with her as well, 

I could be wrong, but think it over. After a 
/ear of rejections from Robin, you might try 
coking elsewhere. I can hardly imagine the 
girl has become a celibate just because 
you two had some heart-to-heart talks. She 
may be screwing you in her own way 

I'm very much in love with a young lady of 
twenty-one -named Audrey. She is very 
shapely, with long, blonde hair, and I have 
always regarded her as beautiful. 

We lived together for a while but realized 
we could never marry for various reasons. 
We matured tremendously and learned all 
about sex as well as love. But Audrey and I 
both needed to experience others, and we 
no longer live together. 

Yet nothing I have experienced has come 
close to how I feel when I'm with Audrey. 
She says she feels the same way. I've been 
seeing her occasionally and have had a 
most memorable evening I'd like to share 
with you. 

On this particular night, I realty wanted to 
make Audrey squirm. Once her pants were 
off. I tongued her stomach, breasts, and 
thighs, slowly working around and licking 
the skin near her ass. This really got her 
going, I hadn't as yet touched her pussy, 
and when I lay down on top of her. she was 
soaking wet. (This is always a terrific turn- 
on for me.) After I finally touched her there 
■briefly, I brought my finger to my 
mouth, which was jus! above hers. It tasted 
so sweet that I then slid it into her mouth. 
She anxiously tongued and sucked on it. I 

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There was a time when automotive design was demonstrably 
importantto the consumer. A client would approach Rolls-Royce, 
Hispano Suiza, or ihe Duesenberg brothers to purchase only the 
rolling chassis. He would then arrange for one of the great coach 
builders — James Young, Vanden Plas, Brewster, Murphy; Hib- 
bard and Darrin, Locke, Le Baron, Park Ward, Ngoni et 
Falaschi — to clothe it in custom bodywork that suited his indi- 
vidual taste. The very rich might order two. bodies for the same 
chassis: a dual-cowl phaeton with wicker doors, perhaps, for 
summers in Newport and a formal limousine for winters in New 
York. The coach builders made special warehousing arrange- 
ments for these good customers and supervised their cars' 
semiannual personality changes, 

Car design was an art in those days, an achievement to be 
celebrated. Despite whai you see on the streets, today great car 
design is not dearj. it is just in hiding. Good designers are stiil 

. around, but their best work often- dies- on the studio bulletin 
board, thanks, to a combination of government regulation and 
corporate timidity. 

To call attention once again to quality design, we asked a half 
dozen of the most influential designers in Europe and America to 
show us the kinds of cars we could be driving. In order to give 
their imaginations full reign, we asked them to create vehicles 
that would meet the safety, economy, environmental, and human 
needs of the year 2001 , not the petty fads of 1979. 

Car makers are no longer free to cater to the public's every 
whim, Which may be all for the best. When technology becomes 
"mportant than.advertising copy, fuel economy more impor- 
tant than horsepower, and substance more important than the 
marketing man's, "high perceived value," can a return to g 
taste befaf behind? These pages, prove that good taste is 
alive, even if it is still an underground movement. 

Byfc- f . Curtis Brubaker 
W[M K lefl General 
f ~flHg Motors in 1969 to 
iy-9^^B set up his own 
$& ^^H design studio 

ZflR and fabrication 
.-, .iflfl shop in Los 
Angeles, called The Brubaker 
Group. Curt's designs have 
run the gamut from the original 
Lear jet to the "Hawk" 
prototype used in the TV 
version of Arthur Hailey's 

Here we see Brubaker's 
vision of a lurn-of-the-century 
"van. The wedge-shaped 
upper body, including the 
cab, can be raised up to ten 
inches by an inflatable. 
elastomeric bellows between 
body and chassis, providing 


wunderkind of 
design, which is itself the' most 
advanced and copied in the 
world. He has set the shape of 
numerous world- renowned 
models from such prestigious 
manufacturers as Alfa Romeo. 
Fiat, Lamborghini, MaseratL 
and Volkswagen. 
The car you see here is a 
four-door limousine of the 
future. Dtjbbed the M-8, it is a 
long. low projectile: its 
wheelbase is a generous 117 
but the overall feng-th. 
only 191 inches and the 
height 49 inches. The. slippery 

cargo volume to match 
today's boxy vans. When 
inflated, the bellows provide 
additional insulation from road 
noise and vibration. When 
lowered, the body nestles 
against the platform chassis 
to provide excellent 
aerodynamics, improved fuel 
economy, and sports-car 
styling. The sliding hatchback 
can be removed entirely to 
provide a pickup truck 
configuration. It is powered by 
a hybrid system, which uses a 
tiny, alcohol-burning turbine to 
drive a generator that powers 
electric motors at each rear 
wheel. The pneumatic 
suspension can "kneel" to 
permit easy loading of heavy 
objects via the rear gangplank. 

- aerodynamics give the M-8 
only half the drag of today's 
economy sedans and 
therefore better gas mileage. 
The Hying buttresses at the 
back support the rear- door 
Irames. thus permitting a high. 
round rear end made entirely 
of glass. 

A power plant is not 
specified, but front- wheel 
drive and a dual-displace-. 
meniV-6orV-8 wouldbe 
appropriate. Pioneered by 
Ford, dual -displacement 
engines cut fuel use by 
running on only half their 
cylinders when idling 
or cruising at moderate 
speeds. Additional cylinders 
come into play when more 
power or speed is demanded 
by the driver 


As director of 
General Motors' 
". __ design staff frorri 

%'~ 1958 to 1977, Bill 

W .. Mitchell has put 

(^fy 1 if„ his distinctive 
■ 4 fj stamppn over 
100 million vehicies, from 
Chevettes to Amtrak 
locomotives. Bill's tastes in 
personal transit run more to 
sports cars and fast 
motorcycles. One of his 
best-loved designs is the 
stylish GM Motor Home, a 
front-wheel-drive, air- 
suspension smoothie that is 
light-years ahead of the 
typical motor home's 
corrugated aluminum box on 
a truck chassis, 

Mitchell's motor home of the 
future will have the hie! 
economy of today's sedans. 

thanks to the use of such ■■ 
lightweight materials as -' 
honeycomb aluminum, : '• 
fiberglass, and thinner giass. 
Aerodynamic aids include. the. 
pointed nose, enclosed ;....'..' 
wheels, smooth belly pan| and 
an absence of the usual: 
roof racks and external air 
conditioners. Photosensitive 
glass will darken in sunlight lo 
cut the air-conditioning load. 
Rush-mounted solar-electric 
panels and lightweight 
batteries may replace the 
gas-guzzling generator. A 
small gas turbine between the 
rwheelswill power this '.>;/ 
mobile pad and provide the ■ 
final touch" in economy:, 
it will run on almost any .-; 
combustible fuel, "even your 
last bottle of Chivas Regal." 
notes the sybaritic Mitchell- 

Albrecht Goertz 
is the industrial 
designer who 
shaped BMW's 
famous 503 and 
^^ 507 models, as 
tt*^kweli as the 
Datsun 240/280Z, the best- 
selling sports car of all time. 
; Goertz's city car of the 
future has no trunk; the rear 
seats fold down individually 
when cargo must be carried. 
With its : miniaturized power 
plant (possibly electric), it 
needs no hood. Uncommonly 
svelte (63 inches shorter, 13 
inches narrower, but 3 inches 
taller than a"79 Bonneville), it 
will's'cQOt'through chinks in 
traffic acid be easy to park, its 
sliding doors and smallsize 
■:.3y ■■;. i '■. ■ :;■■ ;.:/ ■■:■:'■ 
garage fees in the crowded 
cities of our future. Yet the 
occupants will ride tall enough 
to see and be seen in heavy 
traffic. Lower bodywork of 
impact-resistant urethane 
— the material used in some 
1979 bumpers— will ward off 
fender benders from every 
direction. It would also make a 
decent small urban delivery 
van and a great taxicab. 

j^. ; Dick league has 

W-&*£ : P'Ssident Of : . 
,ZW styling for 
2* ,'t American 

v "Mr^v.i Motors for 
* -■ fourteen years. 
He is the man responsible for 
such designs as Ihe Pacer, 
Gremlin. Javelin, and AMX. 

This off-road vehicle of the 
future— the Jeepster II — will 
be lighter, more fuel efficier 
more durable, and e 
repair than present Jeeps. I 
will be powered by a 
turbocharged four-cylinder 
diesei engine and feature : ' 
four- wheel drive with fully > ■■' 
independent suspension. The 
integral rollover bar provides - 
an anchoring point for the <.•.-.. 
removable roof panel and rear 
window The windshield cari 
told t!at onto the hood. Even 
the plqstic doors and wheel : 
flares c 

latter fo; fitting narrow 
highway tires that give bet 
fuel economy). Th< 
cap is an option, £ 
backseats can be 
to face forward or t 
for versatile luntru 
the future. 

\ William Towns is 
an independent 
i designer, best 
i known for his 
Hi Lotus andAsion 
r ' Martin designs. 
'■ * Mis wedge- 
shaped four-door Aston 
Martin Lagoh'da has been the 
sensation of British auto 
shows since the prototype 
was first shown in London two 

years ago: DespjH 
'$60,000-. there-'js: a? ■■. 

considerable waiting lis! tor. ■■' 

Lagondas. ana the first one'- ■ 
; was .only recently delivered;.. 
■ with some fanfare,. torh^Duke 

and Dutchess. of Bedford; ■.. 
. owners of Wob'urn Estate; ;-an... ;.. 

English national iandfnark'v ■;'■■'■. 

■ Bill Towns's design for a .:..'■'■ 
.tum-df-the-ce'ntury grand': . 

■ourincj csf \h --av-; a?. :,:■: ■";-;.; 

attention isthesetdf 
■-':-yy- ■■::'.■ if* y ■■■'. U'-l ■■: 
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could feel her "bear down" each time I slid 
my linger into her vagina, and she would 
gasp .softly. Finally, I stopped this and 
started licking her again, but this time 
closer and closer to her pussy. She was 
getting really hot, moaning and shivering 
with delight. At last I swirled my tongue 
around inside her, giving her everything I 
had. When she came, she was thrusting 
upwards almost uncontrollably. I was in 
heaven, and Audrey was totally spent. 

Our love life is fantastic, but I've seen her 
only a few times in the past four months. 
She apparently can't accept me as her 
lover. This may be due to her strict religious 
upbringing. How can I help her rid herself 
of them guilt feelings? I will always love her 
and have a very real need for her. Please 
help. — Sam 

If you've been watching a lot of daytime 
television lately, you just might think that 
love conquers all. In your case, it seems to 
be battling in a losing war. True, the girl's 
strict religious upbringing could be at fault, 
but is that any reason ior her not to see you? 
She screws with you. yes, but how about 
just seeing you? Does she see other men, 
or is Audrey a "celibate," like the Robin in 
the preceding letter? 
If you haven't done so already, you 

should try to express your emotionai needs 
verbally to Audrey And above all. find out 
where her head and heart are Her appar- 
ent standoffish attitude may turn out to have 
nothing at all to do with a religiously in- 
flicted guilt. 

I've been a bartender for the last seven 
years and have had many unusual sexual 
experiences with various young ladies. 
However, a few months ago I had an expe- 
rience that has made me apprehensive 
about all these illicit sexual affairs. 

A young redhead, named Jill, came in 
one night, -and the only other customer at 
the bar was a girl I had been dating. So I 
divided my time between Jill and Lois. After 
a while Jill asked me if Lois was my girl 
friend, and when I said no. she asked me if I 
thought she, Jill, was pretty. She was fairly 
attractive, with a nice body— no Ann- 
Margret, but nice — and I said she was very 
attractive. Jill then asked me if I would like 
to go to her house after work for some cof- 
fee. After I said yes, I told Lois I had to go 
right home after work and that she might as 
well leave, which she did. 

When we got to Jilt's house, we went right 
to the bedroom and stripped. There was no 
coffee. We were fondling each other and 
talking when she asked me if she could do 
one of her "tricks" on me. She went to the 
kitchen and brought back some whipped 
cream and proceeded to apply it to my 

cock. I couldn't believe it — what a turn-on! 
She started to lick it off very slowly and then 
increased the action as she got closer to 
the head. Just when I was about to come, 
she turned around and S3! right on my face. 
She started right in again, and I started 
licking her as arvoaus/fasshE was sucking 
me. Just before we both came. I turned 
around and decided itwas a'me to fuck. So I 
jumped on top of her and sipped in. As I 
did this, I put my hands under the pillows to 
get some leverage — and bund a knife. 

Needless to say i*Dstmyhard-onandmy 
concentration. M started laughing and 
said she kept the knife then* for protection 
because she lived atone it made sense, 
but I wasn't about to stay around and fall 
asleep or something 

I've run into some *e*d gins in my time, 
but this really made me Art that I should 
be a little more carekJ about the girls I fool 
around with. Since this experience, I 
haven't made or accepted advances. Am I 
being unnecessary g^^shy. or should I 
continue in my old nays? — Luke 

Having lived most or Hf adu( Sfe as a sin- 
gle woman in an urban settng I can sym- 
pathize with Jills need to plated herself. 
But a knife under the pfcw seems a little on 
the wild side. Generaty speaking, you're 
pretty safe if you gcEJie ar^er person's 
apartment for your se* raffie* man to your 
own pad. When you'ie Her guest there's 
no chance of real robbery (unless you're 
the one who's into a tme offering) or get- 
ting stuck with someone »*» just needs a 
place to sleep for the n&* (as "m Looking 
for Mr. Goodbar)— or nwder (not to be 
morbid, but it's unway rat any stranger 
would kill you in her own apartment). 

As a bartender, you'is r\ an iaeal position 
for picking up womer feu oar. get to know 
them gradually, night after night, and once 
you've checked out tw Behavior around 
the bar, you can make your decision. After 
all. you don't have to tick after your first 
hello. Such quick sex can be a Swill, I know, 
but if it's safety you'ie bctang far took again 
and again and again oefare you make that 
first plunge It couJd be your fast 

,4s fe normal for most mates, fm ready for 
sex anytime, anyfrttoe Vy oesz+riend and 
I usually go qu: :.- ~ ; :' z= "ight. and 
this night was no sxcepson — except that 
my wife joined us. rm happ*f earned ', and 
so is my friend. In the past Josh and I have 
talked about threeway se» but never have 
been able to find any rtefested women. / 
had also talked aboUtoetdsa to my wife. 
Carol, and she- n : "■ :. :' Se inter- 
ested, too, if it was «*> tfe ngnf person. 

So. this one raglft ' denoted to invite 
Carol to go with ._-"=" ~= ve had 
ready decided to see r me coufd get Josh 
in bed with us. AsihenigH progressed, we 
started feeling a «te h»gn. and Josh 
started to dance with Cae& Finally, the bars 
closed, and we decided to go back to our 
house for a few more drinks. After we had 
settled into the dan me oecided to water) 


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some stag films. Since everyone on screen 
was naked, we decided to undress. After 
we had gotten into some light petting, Carol 
suggested that we go into the bedroom. 
Once we were there, Josh went down en 
Carol, and she gave me the best blowjob of 
our marriage. Then I screwed Carol while 
she sucked Josh off. We kept switching like 
that for about three hours and were totally 
exhausted by morning. We have repeated 
this same scene several times since and 
enjoyed it more each time. 

However, Carol and I feel that maybe we 
should start looking for someone else. Josh 
has said that he'd like his wife to get in- 
volved as well, How could he go about 
bringing up the subject with her? — J.T. 

Reread your own letter if you want the clue 
to seducing Josh's wife into the joys of mul- 
tiple sex. What worked on Josh, obviously, 
should also work on his wife. Wine, music, 
dancing, a relaxing atmosphere, and stag 
movies. . . If the woman's human, she will 

The Penthouse June letters on anal sex 
have prompted me to write. My husband of 
twelve years and I have talked for a while 
about the subject, but neither Alex nor I had 
really decided to try it. One night, we had 
had an exceptionally emotional evening 
and were quite relaxed. After a long love 
session in which I had come four or five 
times, my husband asked if he could try the 
"back door." I was feeling so relaxed and 
loved that I readily agreed. 

Alex got the Vaseline and put some on his 
penis and my opening. We started playing 
around, and when we were both aroused, 
he slowly started to penetrate, It hurt a little 
but Alex kept talking to me, telling me to- 
relax, and kept playing with my breasts ana 
pussy. All of a sudden I realized that he was 
totally in me. and I really felt complete 
Then Alex started moving very slowly so we 
could get into some kind of rhythm. He was 
teasing and playing with me, and he put 
two fingers in my vagina. It was an amazing 
sensation to feel his fingers through the wall 
of my vagina press on his penis. We were 
both going crazy and exploded together. 
There was such a feeling of closeness and 
oneness with each other that I can't even 
■ express it. When you give every part of your 
body to the man you love, it's just inde- 

Alex is the only man who has ever made 
love to me, and I can't believe another man 
could satisfy me as he does. We have a 
very active, full sex life. Since that one time, 
we have had anal sex on only one other 
occasion, and neither of us has the desire 
to do it again. But at least we have experi- 
enced it with love. — T.CD. 

/ am writing because of your recent re- 
sponses concerning anal intercourse and 
anal stimulation, I fee! the need to offer 
some more complete solutions to the initial 
pain problem so frequently discussed. 
Most people can accommodate a well- 

lubricated index finger—their own or their 
partner's — so that is where they might be- 
gin. Albotene Cream is excellent for this 
purpose but sometimes requires several 
applications over a period of time. Drinking 
alcoholic beverages or smoking a joint will 
also help the person to relax the sphincter 
muscles. I recommend self-stimulation 
until the person can handle the sensation 
and is a little stretched out. Next, use two 
very well greased fingers and concentrate 
being, relaxed and enjoying the turn-on. 
The next step would be to employ a small, 
flexible vibrator In self-manipulation. 

The woman needs to be able to control 
the amount of penetration and the rate of 
the thrusts. I have also found that I can't 
take anal stimulation !wo days in a roi 
perhaps others should try this only when 
they realty want to and when there is no 
soreness in the anal area. Anal intercourse 
is a long-range goal and it is well worth the 
effort! The maie should enter slowly and 
only as far as his partner finds enjoyable. 
Relaxation is vital here, and practice is its 
own reward. My husband especially enjoys 
it when I use a flexible vibrator anally when 
we are screwing — Ifs a double pleasure for 
us both.— RJ.B. 

How nice to have you readers aiding other, 
tess Knowledgeable readers! The only ad- 
vice I can add regarding the joys of anal 
sex is some hints on positions. Positioning 
your body just right is very important when 
it comes to losing your virginity anally. It's 
also very important if the penis happens to 
be a particularly large one. In such cas 
recommend that the man lie on his back so 
that the woman can sit right down on his 
penis. This way she's the one in control, 
and if things should become too painful, 
she can easily (if you'll pardon the pun) 
rectify the situation. Also if the woman finds 
the experience too painful :o oegin with, 
remember: it gets better with practice, 

I'm a twenty-year-old ms-. ='c ' have a 
ways been quite open-minded. I've als 
lived away from home SinBB age sixteen. 
My girl friend, Monica, tt-.-^-'s I nave a bad 
problem, because TTordTienTiat tcollected 
underwear from women that I had sex with. I 
never thought I was //?sa.r>s for keeping my 
memories, but Monica seems to think it's 
horrible. I do have a nice collection — 
1,999 — only one more pair until I hit the 
2.000 mark. Please let me know if this is 
wrong? — Gary. 

What's your girl frienc c: — c = - ig about? 
As long as you don't take your collection tc 
bed with you , what concern s 3 of hers? On 
the other hand , I do wonder about a twen- 
ty-year-old guy who says he's slept with 
close to two-thousand mor-en. Eithei 
you're a satyr or you're -rto buying wom- 
en's underwear. Also. *n. *ere all those 
women so eager to give i& rj-teir panties? I 
prefer reusing mine. 

Regarding underwear fetishes. I must 
tell you a funny story about something that 


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Coming to Selected Theatres This Fall ^S^SHE 

happened to me shortly before 1 had to 
leave Canada a few years ago. Before I 
moved, I put an ad in the paper saying: 
"Xaviera Hollander leaving country. Selling 
everything. Furniture, car, clothes, et cet- 
era." Then I gave my telephone number. 
We'll, you can imagine how my phone 
began to ring. Naturally, I met a lot of inter- 
esting people. I must have met more than a 
dozen couples who begged me to sell 
them my lingerie and underwear. To top it all 
off, I was usual'y reauesred to signjhem 
with a black felt-lip pen. The funniest inci- 
dents involved early-morning phone calls. 
"Miss Hollander?" they would say. "Can 1 
please buy some brassieres and under- 
panties from you— any piece of underwear 
at all? 

"Yes," I would reply 

'Are Ihey clean or somewhat soiled? If 
not, could you please wear something for 
me today so I can sniff it out once 1 buy it 
from you?" 

Then Ihere were the phone calls request- 
ing rubber items, such as kitchen gloves, 
aprons, and boots. It so happened that I 
had a pair of muddy old rubber boots. Well, 
you should have heard the excitement over 
the phone when I told one man about these, 
"I'll be right over," he told me. "But please 
make sure you don't clean them, or polish 
them up in any way, because I want to lick 
them clean." 

Do you still think you're doing something 
wrong? I doubt it. Just get the figures right. 

/ have been happily married to a very beau- 
tiful woman for twelve years. Marie has the 
kind of face and figure (37-25-35) (hat will 
turn any man on. Her cone-shaped (its are 
nicely firm and have no sign of sag; her 
stomach is trim and flat; her ass is firm, and 
her legs are long and well shaped. 

For the past seven years, Marie has been 
putting out to other men on the average of 
two to four nights a week, often in front of 
me. She. has two to four lesbian encounters 
and at least one good gang bang per 
month. Away from home, my wife has a 
reputation as a very easy piece of ass. Yet 
around here she is considered sweet and 
innocent, a respectable housewife, even if 
she is somewhat of a prick tease. 

Marie is proud to be a woman, proud of 
what she has to offer a man or another 
woman. She dresses to show, not to hide, 
what she has to offer; she dresses to be 
feminine and attractive, at home- or in pub- 
lic. We believe "clean and neat" is sexy and 
that makeup and perfume are as important 
as garments are. 

Marie doesn't need a bra, but she always 
wears one. They are mostly red or black, 
some cut so low that her nipples protrude 
over the top. She usually selects a color that 
will show through her blouse and show her 
tits. Her skirts and dresses are mid-thigh to 
show off her legs, yet allow her to wear a 
'garter belt and stockings. 

I'm a photographer and have adorned 

the walls of our living room and bedroom 
with framed 11x14 color pictures of Marie 
wearing only panties or a bra. The pictures 
are posed to emphasize her legs and tits 
and the seductive expression on her face. I 
have often seen the men visiting our home 
get a hard-on while stealing glances at 
these pictures. 

As I write this letter, I see Marie silting 
across the room, from time to time giving 
me a glimpse up her skirt. I see those 
beautiful legs, the dark band at the tops of 
her stockings, the black straps of her gar- 
ter belt, the contrast of the tight, pink bikini 
panties against (he creamy flesh of her 
smooth, firm thighs. I think of the hundreds 
of men Marie has taken between those 
lovely legs. There is a feeling of pride about 
my wife putting out. 

We love each other, and sex is some- 
thing we seek in others. — B.F.J. 

To each his own. Maybe there are some- 
men who love their wives in a more posses- 
sive manner and don't feel like sharing her 
with anyone else, much less having her 
play the whore. Other couples aren't 
necessarily possessive; they just like their 

I've known many women who've fan- 
tasized about spending just a day or so in 
some whorehouse, servicing any customer 
who comes along. Obviously you and your 
wife' believe in giving a literal form to ail your 
fantasies. Who am I to object? OH — = 



■I or four years in the late sixties, 
< Leonard Nimoy, Boston born and 
bred, played the role on a tetevi- 
n series called "Star Trek" ot a half- 
human from outer space: Mr. Spock. As 
Spock, Nimoy didn't have (or couldn't 
show) his emotions. His logical approach 
to the many crises of the starship Enter- 
prise turned out to be the perfect foil for 
the otvsq-human impulses of fellow actor 
Bill Shatner's character, Captain Kirk, 

Shatner was supposed to be the star of 
the show, but Nimoy's character quickly 
became more popular Television fans, 
particularly women, took a special fancy 
to this alienated fellow from the planet 
Vulcan and' showered him with tons of 
mail. Women said -they wanted to mother 
him, love him, show him how to feel. Even ' 
off-screen, Nimoy enjoyed the tensions of 
this unique Vulcan-human relationship. In 

one personal appearance, a young 
woman asked him how old he was. He 
■replted with a very straight face: "What 
did you havein mind?" When the laughter 
over ihat response died down, he added. 
"The question obviously reflects your 
need to judge the possible relationship 
between myself and other human beings, 
possibly even yourself. This represents an 
illogical human compulsion on your part, 
based on certain insecurities and a fasci- 
nation with linear time. It would be better if 
you humans could rid yourselves of this 

When "Star Trek" was canceled (de- 
spite wounded cries from thousands of 
"Trekkies"), Nimoy moved into a role on 
the television series "Mission: Impossi- 
ble," but he finally left the security of a 
steady job so that He could branch out 
and grow. "I'd been in a cave at 

Paramount for five years," he says, 
wanted to explore and find out what was 
outside that cave." 

He took a course in photography at 
U.C.L.A. He started writing poetry. In 1971 
he took on some challenging , un-Spock- 
■like roles on the stage. He was Tevye in 
Fiddleron the Poof. He was Goldman in 
The Man in the Glass Booth . And ihe next 
year, he published a book of poems, You 
and I, which he figured might sell from 
2,000 to 3,000 copies, It sold 300,000. He 
has since published three other books of 
poetry— and an autobiography called / 
Am Not Spock. 

His happy identification with Spock 
goes on. And now he, along with ail the 
old members of the crew of the starship 
Enterprise, has just completed a full- 
length fealure movie called, predictably 
enough, Star Trek. Paramount h 

scheduled :his picture (which had a $15 
million budget) for release sometime in 

Nimoy and his wife. Sandi. a former ac- 
tress: live in an attractive. (;ower-fi! ed home movie." 
close to U.C.L.A. West Coast free-lance Penthouse. 
writer Robert Kaiser interviewed Nimoy "Star Wars' 
there. The sublet,:: science liction. Nimoy; Tha 

Penthouse: Did Star Wars tleserve its tre- 
mendous box-eftice success'' 
Nimoy: Sure! 

Penthouse: It didn't bother you that II had 
no soeia. significance-? 
Nimoy: No. You could say the same thing 

science-action feature on the market. 'Star 
Trek' is a terribly recognizable and suc- 
cessful title, with a good track record. 
SoT— the studios say— "let's do a 'Star Trek' 


response it qol I: was an idea whoso time 
had come. It's also an extremely well made 
iilm. You can hiss and cheer and boo and 
have a good lime. It's just an experience of 
;o - .a involvement, created by a g'oat bench 
of talented people, work rg hard and 
achieving their goals. 
Penthouse: So. now it's time tor a "Star Trek" 

Nimoy: II does s 
backwards. Usua 
cause somebody 
But here a sludic 
fiction is now higr 
mercial. It is de: 

irk a b"; 

Penthouse: Your "Star Trek" m 

advantage of a ready-made c 

Nimoy: Oh yes. We still have i 

And just the other ( 

red light in West woo- 
snouting at me. I c. 
owared the window 
him say. "Make a gr 
waiting for it," I love 
"We are all waiting fc 
tations. But that's gc 

area. So I 
should step 

vie has the 
It. right? 
cull. A few 
n the street 
y pretty girl gave me 
hand upraised, with 
; middle and Ihe ring 
out can you do ii with 
tried it— and failed, 
d said. "Well. I speak 

y I was stopped for a 
and a fellow started 
Idn't hear him. so I 
i my car and heard 
if movie We are all 
ie choice ol words: 
i" Such high expec- 
d. There have to be 
rder for us to do an 

;eptable piece of work. There's nothing 
wrong with that. There are even high expec- 
tations abroad. I'm getting more and more 

fan letters from abroad. 

Penthouse: What about those "Star Trek" 


Nimoy: They're not just conventions. 

They're mass celebrations. Somebody 

says i 


aing t 

"Star Trek" 

"Star T '-- perhaps some of the actors. 
Memorabilia will be exchanged, sold. 
shown. They will show films of past "Star 
Trek" episodes on a giant screen, They'll 
hold panel discussions on space and "Star 
Trek " Some of the writers who wrote the 
show might appear. Harlan Ellison, Isaac 
Asimov. Ray Bradbury, might be there. 
There may be some reps from NASA. 
Thousands of people will attend. 

And ihey talk and talk about — "Star 
Tre* " They have trivia contests. What did 
Captain Kirk say to Mr. Spock in "Amok 
Time" at the moment when Spock thought 
he was leaving for home? They quote 
each other lines, chapter and verse. They 
have wardrobe contests, look-alike, con- 
:-[-,:s some people do cometothese con- 
venliqns dressed up like some of the 

Penthouse: Are these people kooks? 
Nimoy: No, I think the press has not been 
totally fair with these people, implying thai 
they are freaky, weird, strange. I have met a 
lot of people — educated, successful, well 
dressed— who tell me. "I'm a Trekkie." al- 
most in deliance of the denigrating aspect 





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id The Green Door 
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3 Marilyn Chambers 

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Penthouse: Are you a star attraction at 

Nimoy: I'm afraid so. The last convention I 
attended was at a hotel in New York. I gave 
a little talk and then started wandering 
around this hotel, poking my head into this 
seminar or that. Pretty soon the word got 
out that Spock was on the loose, and 
people started jamming up the halls to get 
close to me and choking up the elevators. 
The security people were talking about hav- 
ing to call the lire department. 
Penthouse: Did you think you'd be at- 

Nimoy: Absolutely not. The people who 
come to see me — call them "Trekkies" if 
you want — are far more civilized than the 
security people paid to protect me. The 
security people tend to aggrandize them- 
selves for days about their responsibility. 
They imagine all sorts of terrible things that 
will happen if they don't take precautions. 
So they plan various devious and circuitous 
routes to get me in and out of Ihe 
auditorium — through a kitchen, maybe, a 
la Robert Kennedy. They say "Take a freight 
elevator . . . climb in an unmarked car at 
the back door . . . don't tell anybody ex. 
cept your girl friend" — who tells her girl 
friend, of course, who tells her boyfriend. 
and soon you've got sixteen followers who 
are all "securing" you. Security people cre- 
ate hysteria. It's easy enough in a crowd 

situation to create an atmosphere of mutual 
respect and communication. But these se- 
curity people do just the opposite. They 
project their own vibes: "This is, a tense 

PQnthouse: And the crowd just comes to 
these spirited Trekkie rallies to have fun! 
Nimoy: That's right. And they're just yelled 
at: "Stay back!" At the slightest sign of any- 
thing not working right, the security people 
get hysterical. Strange. 

I did atrip to Oakland about a year and a 
half ago. I walked in and found the kids, as 
usual, taking a lot of pictures — lots of little 
flashbulbs going olt. Well, there was a 
phalanx of security people, arm in arm, 
cordoning off the stage. I started talking to 
the audience; they were very responsive, 
and everything was going off beautifully. 
Suddenly, I became aware of a couple of 
young security men. the type who probably 
work the rock concerts and are looking for 
the same atmosphere when it isn't the 
same atmosphere. People who come to 
see me aren't going to fill the aisles and 
storm the stage. 

Well, these security guys ;ned to stop the 
kids from taking flash pictures. They de- 
cided that no one could use a flash. It was 
just an arbitrary decision on their part — it 
didn't make any difference to me if Ihe kids 
used flash or not. But these security guys 
were starting to yell at Ihe people. And it 
was disturbing to me. because I was mak- 
ing a speech. And they were shouting. 

"Stop the flashes' Get that flash, Charlie! 
Get it away from that kid right there! "Finally 
I stopped and said, "Hey, it's okay. Lei 'em 
do their flashes." And this security guy 
turned right to me and said, "Mistuh Nimoy. 
there's enough light in here. They don't 
have to use flashes." Wait a minute! This is 
anarchy! I don't believe this. I'm in a con- 
frontation with a security guard! 
Penthouse: You don't travel with an entour- 
age, bodyguards? 

Nimoy: I'm not Muhammed Ali. I'm me. I try 
to keep it low-key. I just try to talk to people 
as people, try to reveal some of the behind- 
the-scenes stuff they seem so interested in. 
But I have also developed a technique that 
makes it fun. Sometimes I play my Mr. 
Spock role. I'll come onstage and get a 
tremendous ovation, and so I have to tell 
the crowd, severely. "You're a very emo- 
tional group of humans." They love that. 

At DeAnza College near San Francisco 
not long ago, a voice from the audience 
sang out, "Mr. Nimoy. I'm picking up a vibra- 
tion. There's something on your mind, 
something you're not telling us, something 
very intense, something very close to your 
heart. I'd like you to feel free to tell us about 
that." I said, "You obviously have ESP." He 
said, "Maybe I do." I said, "Well, in that 
case, why don't you tell me?" The place 
went crazy. 

Penthouse: Don't you ever get tired of 
being Spock? 
Nimoy: Not a bit. A few years ago. I wrote a 

think that's why Ihe show is being watched 
and rewatched today. There are new ele- 
ments to be discovered as the viewer 




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Nimoy: I dor.': agree with the oopular idea 
about typecasting. I believe that every 
actor who is suceoss'u is typecast to some 
degree. An actor who is not "typeable" is 

Penthouse: H c t=. '*''' "Star TreK" television 
series been dubbed into other languages? 
Nimoy: About forty. 

Penthouse: And the reruns go on and on? 
Nimoy: Right. 
Penthouse: We assume they're still paying 
you handsomely. 

Nimoy: No, It's amazing how that concept 
still prevails. When we signed on with 
Paramount, we signed the standard 
Screen Actors Guild contract. We gol paid 
so much for making the episode, -.hen ;■; 
much — a dwindling amount — for each re- 
run. But no more after the fifth rerun. We got 
:.'ur 'asl Clucks about eight years ago. 
Penthouse: So who makes the money now? 
Nimoy: Well, theoretically. Paramount. But I 
doubt you could get anybody over there 
now to admit there was any "profit." 
Penthouse: What's made "Star Trek" such a 

Nimoy: One percent inspiration and 
ninety-nine percent perspiration. That was 
our "genius." 

Penthouse: Well, you could have worked 
hard and sti'l gone unappreciated. 
Nimoy: True. And in the case of science 
fiction, it's never been very well appreci- 
ated until very recently Oh, the form has 
existed for a long time. There has always 
been a place for it, 

Penthouse: Of course, everyone remem- 
bers that old science-fiction character, 
Rash Gordon. 

Nimoy: Sure, and I remember owning a 
Buck Rogers ray gun when I was a kid. But 
we never expected too much out of sci- 
ence fiction. And when we grew up, we 
never expected to find a great novel in that 
particular guise. 
Penthouse: So, why do you think the genre 

Nimoy: Science fiction started to get much, 

much belter. Writers were presenting more 
interesting ideas, and their stories were of 
the mulli-level kind we used on "Star Trek," 
Penthouse: "Multi-level"? 
Nirnoy: I mean, a kid of ten could watch a 
"Star Trek" episode and enjoy it for the 
gadgetry and the rocketry and the 
aliens — the obvious plot. Six or eight years 
later, maybe as a high-school graduate or 
College student, that same kid could watch 
a rerun ol the same episode and catch the 
social implications of what we were talking 
about, things he wasn't aware of before. I 

i audi 

=■_■ ■ 

s Day 

the Earth Stood Still was ; 
touched us It made _i; -"•a^- -i- ourselves. 
In that movie aliens were coming from 
anotherplaneland looking at us. So we had 
to look at ourselves. 

Penthouse: And "Star Trek" wasn't de- 
signed fo frighten? 

Nimoy: No. "Star Trek" wasn't "doomsday" 
science fiction. It was upbeat. 
Penthouse: What was the message of "Star 

Nimoy: You must be the only one who 
doesi know But the plot line is this: we're 
in the twenty-second century and all the 
planetary governments have united to form 
this United Space Fleet — not a United 
Sfares Fleet but a federation of planets, a 
United ' Nations of outer space, working 
successfully for peace. Of course, there 
are some bad guys out there, but this 
group of good guys is working to avoid 

Penthouse: Whal was the attraction of that 
idea for your viewers? 
Nimoy: Well, nowadays we live in a sci- 
ence-fiction age. We are now living the sto- 
ries that were dreamed by science-fiction 
dreamers not more than twenty, thirty, forty 
years ago. Stop to consider: we have had 
human beings standing on the moon. 
Twenty years ago mat was nothing but sci- 
ence fiction, I mean , in the summerof 1969 1 
went out in my own backyard and 'hen 
looked up and said, "There are men walk- 
ing up there on the moon." I hac sea - them 
on television, but it wasn't thesame g as 
actually looking up there and realizing 
fhere were men on the moon. Iflfe ■ : fed- 

In fact, there are some wonci- ■_ Stories 
about some people's need to reject this 
kind of experience. I heard people say that 
those guys stepping out onto the moon 
looked too much like the old Buck Rogers 
serials. It looked too much like afdm set to 
be real. But, of course, desr bsi 

people, the future is here, and -vers going 
ahead. I think the acceleration irsto space 
will now be exponential. I mean, wtieri was 
it — sixty years ago? — that the Wright 
brothers were just getting a tew feel off the 
ground with a paper airplane 7 A." rjnow we 
think nothing of air speeds fasts than 
sound, of enormous aircraft ca- ng sev- 
eral hundred people. 

We're beginning to see why we have 
spurts in development. In World '. -. ■ 
military strategists said. "WotikJn I I be 
great if we could fly over armies a .' drop 
things on their heads?" And the. Ad Well, 
that was a tremendous push for* ard and 
we found the people ao-d :~-: ": :" ; . 
Then, the Second World War — more 
strides. Unfortunately, both of these were 

war situations. But then the economics of 
technological research and development 
started to make sense, even when there 
wasn't a war to inspire such development. 
In recent years people have wanted to 
travel and have become affluent enough to 
do so. So, when the economics start to 
make sense, when there is a need- 
politically, emotionally, socially, what- 
ever—you see this tremendous burst for- 

Same thing in outer space. The U.S.S. 
Enterprise space shuttle is going to be a 
tremendous milestone in the development 
of space potential— lor economic reasons. 
For the first time, we will have a reusable 
spaceship — one good, they say, for up to 
one hundred missions. We started off with 
ships that could carry one man. then three, 
Now we're talking about a ship that'll carry 
six or seven people. The multiples begin to 
build. And this is a ship that will take off, 
perform its mission, come back, land on a 
runway, and within a month be ready to take 
off again. 

So the economics begin to turn around: 
more use out of one piece of equipment. 
This ship will then begin to work in space for 
industry. This ship will be able to capture a 
nonfunctioning satellite, repair it, and re- 
launch it — all in space — or bring it back to 
earth, repair it, and send it into orbit again. 
Industries will begin to find ways to make 
money by renting space on the Enterprise. 
The flow of dollars is going to change. I've 
heard that in five years NASA will be earn- 
ing back the amount that it has spent on its 
entire space program up lo now. Space- 
ships will become like buses and trucks in 

Penthouse: Do you think we'll ever have 
space, colonies? 

Nimoy: Sure. I think that before long we will 
see families developing in space. We'll 
begin to- see people committing them- 
selves to leaving this planet and not coming 
back, going out to explore and colonize in 
deep space, with the idea that maybe their 
children or grandchildren might some day 
get back to earth. I see it as a very feasible 
option for the future, particularly when it 
becomes economically sensible. Frankly, I 
think taxpayers are a little weary of the idea 
of supporting a space program just to 
bring back some rocks or whatever. But 
we're already benefiting from spin-offs of 
the space program: communications satel- 
lites, weather satellites — that sort of thing. 
And also some very practical benefits' — for 
example, the pacemaker, now implanted in 
I don't know how many human beings, 
keeping them alive. All these things came 
out of the space program. In any case, 
when the government can finally reportthat 
there was a profit from the space program 
this year, and somebody feels he's paying 
five dollars less in taxes because of it, then 
we're on the way. 

Penthouse: So science fiction isn't fiction 

Nimoy: Well, the science-fiction dreamers 
are the ones who set the goals for the scien- 
tists, ch— a 

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Loan shark 

1 though: that some of your readers with a 
little spare money to lend might be inter- 
ested in the loan arrangement I have made 
with my spendthrift sister-in-law. A couple 
of months ago, Cathy, who is married to my 
brother, had gotten herself deeply in debt 
by overuse of her credit cards. Since she 
didn't want her husband to find out she 
asked me if 1 would lend her the money to 
clear up her debts. 1 agreed, but 1 thought 
'that she would have a hard enough time 
paying back the loan and badly needed to 
learn a lesson in money management. So I 
made her agree to pay interest on the loan 
by being my sex slave on a once-a-week 

Every Thursday night after my wife-has 
lefl for ciass at a nearby evening college. 
Cathy arrives at my house. As soon as she 
is inside the front door, I tell her to strip 
down completely and crawl on all fours to 
the top of the second-floor stairs, where I 
am waiting to be her master for the evening. 
The sight of her thirty-eight-inch melons 
swaying back and forth as she crawls ig- 
nites both my cock and my plan of action. 

When she gets to the top of the stairs, 
she has to crawl on her belly to the foot of 
my bed, where 1 make her kiss and suck 
each one of my toes. While she s.ucks them, 
I snap the first of many five-by-seven pic- 
tures, which will record the night's action 
and be my ultimate insurance that the loan 
will be paid in full. 

With the preliminaries out of the way, ! 
place Cathy on all fours on my bed and 
then push her head down to a pillow and tie 
her hands over her head to the bedpost. I 
am now ready to work on her pleasingly 
plump ass with it's tight little hole. Using 
pink .lipstick, I paint her rear tunnel' en- 
trance pink and then, using bright red 
lipstick, write in big letters on her quivering 
cheeks, "Fuck My Ass." As soon as I have 
recorded the scene with my camera, I 
mount her quickly from behind, shoving my 
straining, eight-inch rod. as far as it will go 
up Cathy's chocolate tunnel. The pink 
lipstick paint job is. the only lubricant she 
gets, as she needs to feel some pain in 
order to understand the evil of being liter- 
ally up to her ass in debt! As soon as my 
cock has had a mind-bending explosion in 
her hole, I untie Cathy's hands from the 
bedpost and flip her over and tie her 
spread-eagled across the bed. 

The second phase of Cathy's slave duty 
begins when I coat the inside of her humid 
honeypot wifh something hot and tingling 
like mouihwash or horseradish. Mext I tape 
plastic bags full of ice cubes to her well- 
rounded tits. The alternating hot and cold" 
sensations flowing from her pussy and 
boobs to her brain make her as cock- 
hungry as a nympho doing a life- sentence. 
Feeling that the best way to satisfy her 
hunger is to stick my cock right down her 
throat, I straddle her upper torso. While I 

hold her head immobile wifh my hands, I 
fuck her mouth until my semen is oozing out 
the corners of her mouth. As soon as she 
has swallowed my come, It is time for the 
final phase of Cathy's slave treatment. 

Liu: o' my ci'esser comes a vibrator, with 
which I slowly tantalize Cathy, touching he r 
almost everywhere .excepl on her quivering 
clit, After a tew minutes of the vibrator 
treaiment, Cathy's hips are. bucking wildly 
as if she were a bitch in heat. At the same 
time, she starts to scream at the top of her 
lungs for me to fuck her cunt as hard as I 
can. But since I have decided that she 
won't get my prick in her pussy until she has 
repaid her loan, I ignore her pleas for a 
good hard fucking. Instead, when I think 
she cannot stand any more tension, I 
quickly jerk off all over her face and then 
unlie her and send her home. 

By the way as a result of our sessions, 
Cathy is repaying her loan faster than I had 
expected I— AS., Boston, Mass. 

Get your pop rocks off 

My seven-year-old nephew turned me on to 
some new candy nol long ago. It's called 
"Pop Rocks," and it comes in Kool-Aid- 
coated envelopes. It's. a coarse powder in 
several flavors. 

The instant the powder touches your 
mouth, the candy starts crackling, like fire- 
works on the Fourth of July. This new find 
hasliterally gotten many of my friends off! 
Knowing me io be an aficionado of oral sex, 
a friend jokingly sugcoslsc another use for 
this novel candy. Always willing to try any- 
thing new, I decided to try it on my next 
dale, who is a sexy songwriter and bears a 
strong resemblance, to John Holmes from 
''the waist down. 

We were at my apartment, and I had just 
given his delicious body a tongue bath, 
omitting to touch his gorgeoue prick. I ex- 
cused myself for a minute and returned to 
my unsuspecting lover with a mouthful of 
grape pop rocks. I took his cock into my 
mouth, and my saliva started the pop rocks 
working, I thought that he would come un- 
glued! The pop rocks gave him un- 
dreamed-of sensations. My mouth was act- 
ing as a vibrating bed of pleasure for him. 

I'd suggest pop rocks as an imaginative 
way to please your female or male lovers 

My boyfriend is going to. try using them 
on me tonight and I'm hoping my orgasm 
will be like bombs bursting in air. I think 
most of the buyers of pop rocks in this City 
are adults — turned on to them by word of 
mouth. No pun intended!— M.S., Salinas, 

Saturday night fever 

I'd like to relate an experience your readers 
might be interested in. My three buddies 
and I get together regularly for camping 
trips. Frank, Larry. Paul, and I go away most 
weekends Io hunt and fish in the moun- 
tains. One Saturday night, not having much 
luck wilh the fish, we sat around a big camp 
fire, all getting stoned on some dynamite 
Colombian. Our usual poker game pro- 

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Experts Say ... 

You Really Can Get Girls Through Hypnotism! 

If You Live To Be 100 — You'll Never Find An Easier Way To Get Girls ... Believe It Or Not — It's True!!! 


NEW YORK — Their company name is 
Silverman Research of Prov., R.I. — And 
they claim to have a new, modern way of 
getting girls. 

It's called S/A Hypnotism. And they say 
that thousands of men like yourself have 
already begun to use this easy-to-master 
principle to meet, date and even seduce 

They go on to claim that S/A Hypnotism 
works like nothing you've ever seen be- 
fore. And they even offer to prove it to you. 

They promise to show you exactly how 
to use this principle to meet more beauti- 
ful girls than you ever dreamed possible. 

And they go on to say that It doesn't 
matter how many times you've failed with 
girls before. Nor does it matter why you 

To use their words: "That's all In the 
past now." 

When we saw their ad on this new way of 
getting girls, we decided to take a closer 
look and find out for ourselves whether or 
not S/A Hypnotism really did work. 

So that's exactly what we did. We inves- 
tigated the situation completely. 

And we can now say that our findings 
show that their method does Indeed work. 

Below is a copy of the original Silver- 
man ad. If you're interested in learning 
how to get girls through hypnotism, It may 
be worth your while to read It. 

(Reprinted By Permission ) 



When you begin to use S/A Hypnotism, vou 
will have one of the most po:-. erful forces known 
i "i„ »--il .nj- 1 -i ,.-u M.- ' Jill ■ . ■ ■ ■.. -* ..... 
a man who they'd like to get to know belter ... 
much better. Many will be instantly attracted to 
you. Some will simply not be able to resist you. 

Don't gel us wrons. We're not going to give 
you any magical or super-natural powers. 

All we are eoin;_> lo do i- teach you how lo use a 
highly effective, little-known principle — a prin- 
ciple thai is available to any man who is wilting to 
make the small effort required to ieam it. 

R. C, Mich., says; "/ tried even trick 1 knew 
to meet girls. But I seldom succeeded. 

! :!<.■■-.} yj;i !( ; ':;v! .:ver : : pick- up technique, ever 
invented. And I still came up empty-handed. 

I was quite lonely - to say the least, 

Then I heard about SIA Hypnotism. 

T II admit ...I had my doubts at first. Bui I took 
a chance and gave it a try, I had nothir.f ,■ ■ 

Well, I'll tell you ... It didn't take me long to 
see that I had stumbled onto something big. 
Really big! 

Within just 4 or 5 days, I was meeting more 
beautiful girls than I knew what to do with. 

1 started making dates with more girls than I 
really had time for. 

But that's nothing. You should see some .it. the 
sexy girls who were actually eager to sleep with 

uch fun in years. 

notism to meet, date and i-vcn tfi/urf beautiful 

In a matter ol days, you too. will be able to 
walk up to a girl tany girll. and w ithin seconds, 
have her name, address and phone number. 

And that will only be the beginning. Because 
from that point on, she will agree wiih practically 
anything you suggest (within reason). 

That's "the kind ol" power S:A Hypnotism will 

give you. It puis you "in control" at all times. 


Now maybe this sounds like a bunch of 
"mumbo-jumbo" to you. If so — let us suggest 

Put your doubts aside for awhile and give 
yourself a chance. 

Notice we said ''give yourself" a chance. >■ 

This principle works .. . and all the doubts in 
the world won't change that. Bui if you let your 
doubts get in your way — and you don't at least 
give it a try — you'll be selling yourself short and 
robbing yourself of the success with girls you 
want so badly. 

You don't need ,;ny special education or talent 
loientnSIA Hypnotism. There ate no complicated 
courses to take. 

Simply follow the steps in our easy-to-read, 
easwo-understandhook called .. . The Easy Way 
To Get Girls; Through SIA Hypnotism. 

Read the book through just rwo or three tunes 
(with a reasonable amount of concentration) . . . 
and you'll be well on your way to getting all the 
beautiful girls you ever wanted. 

And remember — it doesn't matter what you 
look like or how old you are. These things mean 
nothing when you use S/A Hypnotism. 


S/A Hypnotism is working Mr thousands of 
men — and it will mirk lor you. We guarantee it. 

In fact, we're coing to go ahead .mil make you 
line of the most unusual euurantees in the history 
ol" advertising. Anil here il is: 

Try out the pvnicip'c of .V -1 Hypnotism for a 
month. Then ... if you haven't met. dated and 
even.t/e/W with more beautiful girls in those four 
weeks than you have in the past year, return the 
material. We'll rush you a full refund and more. 

We will send you: 

• 10 dollars (the original amount you paid for 
our material) 


• 13e(lhecostofthes 
us your order) 

• 2e' (the cost of the envelope you sent your 

• 5J (for the time it took you lo Till out the 

• 10? (for your trouble) 
Think about that for a second. 

Once again; S-.l Hypnotism works. And like 
we said before: "We'll prove it to you." All you 
have to do is send in the coupon now. 

Every m an who is populai with girls has his 
own special technique he uses to get mem. If you 
are lucky enough to he one ul' these successful 
eendemeu, you don't need u-. or S/A Hypnotism. 

On the other hand — if you're seriously look- 
ing ior a reliable, no-iumsen<c method ol aeuiisg 
girls; j method that will work .otmltere. anytime 
... maybe you should give 5.-1 Hypnotism an 
honest try. You may .soon find yourself with more 
girls than any ten men put together! 

NOTE: We have checked with the people 
at Silverman Research and have learned 
that their book on S/A Hypnotism is still 
available (with complete refund guaran- 
tee). You may order a copy if you wish. 

I Silverman Research, Depl. P-M78 

P.O. Box 9204 
| Providence, R.I. 02940 
| Sounds almost too good to be trut 
j you've got a deal. What have I got to lose'. 
I Here's my 10 dollars Send .'';.-■:■ ■: ,; - ■■■■■■ 

. To Get Girls: Through SlA Hypnotism. 
After trying your material for a month, 1 

must be meeting, dating, and even sleeping 
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I 1 may return the material for a full refund and 



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ceeded for a whiieur-:'! someone suggested 
thai we make it a game of strip poker. All of 
our heads were three miles up anyway; so it 
was agreed that Ihe player would take off 
an arlioe of clothing each lime he lost. 
Frank was never a good player anyway, and 
he was the first to go — his naked and 
tanned body was^there for all of us lo see. 
Larry had stripped, he suggested that the 
others join them au naturel. Being both 
stoned and homy and not knowing what to 
expeel, we agreed. Frank mentioned to 
Larry how well hung he was, and we all had 
lo agree. I didn't have a tape measure, but it 
was the biggest, fattest, and thickest cock 
I'd seen. (Having been in the air force for 
four years, I'd seen and compared a few 
guys before; I think everyone secretly 

Larry jokingly asked Frank if he'd like to 
suck on it for a while and leaned back invit- 
ingly in the moonlight. Frank hesitated and 
then crawled over and started fondling the 
large cock, pulling back the foreskin lo ex- 
pose an enormous head. He stroked Larry 
slowly back and forth, and both his and 
Larry's cocks began to enlarge and ex- 
pand until both were jutting straight out, 
Larry's having a slight upward curve to it. 
Then Frank reached down and pulled the 
huge knot into his mouth, rolling his tongue 
around it and bringing moans of ecstasy 
from Larry Paul and I could only watch as 
Frank took as much of Larry into his mouth 
as he could, with his head bobbing up and 
down on the thick shaft. By now he had 
moved around so that his cock dangled 
above Larry's head. Immediately Larry 
gobbled the member into his mouth, his 
hands caressing the hanging sac and 
fondling the swollen balls. It wasn't long 
betore both of them were jerking and crying 
out, as you could see the cocks of both 
muscular men jerking wildly. Frank's face 
contorted as his lips gripped tfghtly around 
the glans, and he was soon gulping down 
Larry's hot sperm. Frank wasn't long in 
coming himself. 

By this time, you'd have to be a mon- 
goloid not to get turned on. and Paul and I 
were busy fondling each other's cock. Paul 
said to me in a husky voice to get on my 
knees, and I was strangely excited by the 
thought. As I crouched on all fours, I felt the 
hot and sweaty shaft of his penis slowly 
climb my leg, until the huge head was right 
against my ass. He pushed slowly against 
my puckered anus. Luckily, he had lubri- 
cated himself, but it was still slow and pain- 
ful while he made his entrance into me, all 
the time stroking my rock-hard joint for all it 
was worth. Soon he was pumping in and 
out with vigorous abandon, his meaty balls 
slapping my hairy ass with a sound that 
seemed to carry forever. 

-I was beside myself with joy, now know- 
ing what women felt like when I had entered 
their dark caverns in the past. I reached 
behind to feel the huge, thick pole enter me 
and grabbed a handful of his balls, squeez- 
ing them tightly. I felt his strokes come 
quicker, and as my rectum seemed to 
tighten, I felt a load of hot come explode 




JULY 78 


Per-issue prices are: S1.50Ehrough 

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inside me. I myself reached orgasm from 
Paul's deft handjob. We both collapsed, as 
Frank and Larry looked. on. Later on we 
switched off, with me enjoying Larry and 
Paul having Frank, This was a few weeks 
ago, and ever since we've found it best not 
fo miss another trip, because even if our 
poles are unsuccessful in one place, they 
sure come through later on! Try it your- 
selves. You might be surprised. I know 1 
was.— R.M., Tucson, Ariz. 

I found it at the movies 

I would like to tell you about an incident that 
happened lo me last weekend. I'm a fairly 
good-looking black guy who likes blondes. 
I went 'fo see an X-rated movie. While I was 
watching the movies, a nice-looking 
blonde sat down next to me. On the screen 
in front of us Ihe couple was in a sixty-nine 
posilion. The man had his tongue on the 
girl's pussy while she got almost all of his 
nine inches down her throat. While this was 
going on, the girl next to me was getting 
turned on. ShowassquTrning in her chair, I 
reached over and rubbed between her 
legs. She was soaking wet down there; so I 
started to massage her cunt. Then she 
opened her legs and started to unzip my 
pants. My dick, rock hard, is ten and a half 
inches. She started jerking it. and soon I 
was finger-fucking her. 

On the screen the lady and man as- 
sumed a doggy-style position. His cock 
was all the way in her, and her head was 
going back and forth. At about this time, my 
girl reached a climax. I could feel her 
juices. A few seconds later I shot my load; it 
got on her hand. Shetook it and licked it off. 
I asked her if she wanted to go to my 
apartment, and she accepied. 

When we got there, we went straight to 
the .bedroom, where we got into a wild 
sixty-nine. After about fifteen minutes of 
foreplay she mounted my dick, and while I 
sucked her tits, she rode up and down. I 
shot my come into her, and. she screamed, 
"Fuck me with this big, black dick. Fuck me!" 
Soon she reached her climax, and then I 
rolled her over and ate her pussy out, like it 
was my first. Soon my dick was rock hard 
again, and she wanted it in the ass. I then 
slipped it up her tight hole. Did I pump away 
at that ass! She was loving every stroke I put 
in her. She was screaming with pleasure, and 
we reached a climax together. After I pulled 
out, we fell asleep. The next morning she was 
gone but left her number. We're going to have 
more nights like that to come. — Name and 
address withheld 

It's the real thing 

I have a cousin, whom I'll call 'A." My story 
starts back a few years ago. I was getting 
very interested in sex and pictures of nude 

girls. (We were both in our mid-teens.) 1 was. 
really into masturbating while looking- at a 
picture of a beautiful cunt. A friend showed 
me pictures of a couple performing all 
kinds of sex acts, including oral sex. I was 
really fascinated seeing a tongue disap- 
pear inside a juicy cunt or ass hole. 
That's when I got this idea: instead of 

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having a picture of an ass hole or cunt, why 
not have the real thing open in front of me 
whiie I jerked off? 

'A™ happened to be staying over at my 
house; se :•"-:- nexl morning I took her into 
the bathroom and had her lift up her night- 
gown. I then wiped her between he* --::- 
with a warm washcloth. She asked what ! 
was doing. I told her i was going to iick her. 
We went back to my room. - "".-:. _: 
gown to her waist and lay back a — ■■_: oed 
with her iegs wide open. I kneft drawn, my 
face only inches from a ready beautiful 
s : ght. and I piaced ~y ■"" _"" ----- :_---. 
spreading her lips with my Bps. inserting 
my tongue, tasting her rJefioouE ju ess. It 

wasfargreaterlhanloc- .,---. ta 

cunt! Needlesstosay.itdirirtttake-meiang 
to reach orgasm while I was mas jdbatJng 
in that position. 

Since Ihen we have set up a deal where I 
have to work tor what we caJ a "licking 
session." I will take : A" for a piggyback ride 
{with my finger up her asshole) and other 
similar things, andshe"" :_'~ ? : .-. ~ie 
to lick her. "A" will kneei in a chah-wrjh her 
pants down. She will bend ores King her 
fantastically shaped ass — - ; " read- 
ing her Cheeks with her hands, allowing me 
to lick as much of hercunt and ass note as I 
can reach. 

We've done it so many ways and so many 
times that I've long since tost count Some- 
times I'ii lie on my back wB =gs up 
and spread. A" willlickrrryballswhiiel jerk 
off. She likes that, especiaity because this 
way she can see the "white stuff' come 
spurting out of my dick. Its arty been re- 
cently that I've been trying to teach her how 
to give a really fantastic btowjbb. explaining 
tohertechniquestha: :"" r- ; e "- - =;ed 
on me. She's doing very welt deep-throat- 
ing me, and I especially :ike i when she 
brings me to climax, because she'll pull it 
out of her mouth to allow me to shoot my 
load all over her face before returning it to 
her warm wet mouth. But of course, when 
necessary, she'll swallow every drop, such 
as when we're driving or on a bus, at a 
museum, or at other places where you 
wouldn't want to walk around with droplets 
of come on your clothing. 

Let me tell about some of our licking ses- 
sions. We go to my room to waich televi- 
sion. I lie on my back, head toward the set. 
She removes her pants and squats over my 
face, spreading her cunt lips, and I slip my 
stiff tongue inside her. i lie there. lapping at 
her cunt while she watches the show, every 
once in a while looking down and smiling at 
me, lifting her cunt up a few inches so that I 
can see what I was tasting. 

Thanks, 'A," for the privilege of mastur- 
bating in front of you, on your face and body 
and inside your mouth, while I took a real, 
live cunt instead otjusta picture. Your cunt 
is the sweetest ever. And, Penthouse, your 
magazine is the g reatest.— IVa/ne and ad- 
dress withheld 

Generous spirits 

My wife, Rina. and I have been married five 

years now, and we have a great sex life. 

Reading magazines 'ke. Forum and Pent- 
house gave us ideas about how to make it 
even better however. Recently, we decided 
thai it would be a big turn-on if one of us had 
sex with someone else while the other was 
present. My wife told me that at the olfice 
there were a couple oi guys who had hinted 
that they had the hots for her One guy was 
her boss; the other is a technical rep. Dave. 
We decided on the latter. 

I work midnights; so on my day off, Dave 
and Rina wen! tor drinks and came home io 
our place quite loaded. It was summer and 
pretty hot out, and all the windows were 
open, affording an excellent view. I 
watched and listened outside as. Rina 
questioned Dave about fantasies, group 
sex. lesbianism, and the like. It seemed to 
me that he didn't want to commit himself. 
He then pulled her gently onto the couch 
and began stroking her hair, I watched as 
he unbuttoned her blouse and laid her 
down on the couch. His mouth was on hers, 
and he slowly licked his way down to her 
nipples, which looked hard and wrinkled. 

The two of them were in a frenzy. His 
pubic area was grinding inlo her cunt, even 
though she had pants on and he was still 
fully clothed. Then my wife just put her arms 
around him and held tight, and about one 
minute later he got up, kissed her good 
night, and left. I continued to watch my wife 
and found myself pulling my cock out. I 
masturbated to the sight of my beautiful 
wife getting ready for bed, and I came 
twice. Then I wenl io her, and we fucked our 
brains out. She later told' me that her visitor 
had gotten so horny that he came right in 
his pants while he was lying on top of her, 
He had felt so ashamed that he left. 

Then one day. a few weeks later, we were 
playing strip poker with some friends. Be- 
fore I knew it. we were all on ourwaterbed, 
this other guy, Bob and I on our backs, his 
wife guiding my cock into her wet cunt and 
my wife placing her first uncircumcised 
cock into her sopping cunt. Then Bob's 
wife reached over and started playing with 
his nipples, and he in turn reached down 
and iel! my cock deep inside her. I looked 
down and Rina's fingers were moving ex- 
pertly over this girl's clit. Seeing all this 
drove me wild, and Rina knew it. So she 
switched places with her counterpart, and 
we fucked until I came three times. She told 
me that she lost count at nine. 

Another time my wife made it with anoth- 
er male admirer, then came home and 
turned me on by telling me every detail. 
They had done it in his parked car. The first 
thing he did was Io put his arms around her. 
kiss her and touch her bush and clit with 
his hand. When he arched her back and 
pulled her dress over her head, he moved 
his face down to her cunt and licked away 
like a kitten lapping at its first saucer of milk. 
He plunged his middle finger deep inside 
her, and Rina cupped her breasts and was 
squeezing her nipples and moaning like 
hell. After a while he had to come up for air 
and told her he was awfully hot. She then 
unzipped his fly and helped him slide his 
pants down, where she found a cock that. 

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she said, was about half as big as - ne. 
With her left hand she |erKed his foreskin 
back and forth, and her right hand went Eo 
her bush and found my little friend. She 
then asked him if he'd ever watched a girl 
masturbate, and his eye? ::" . ; : b 3 as Iwo 
silver dollars. He uttered a quick negative 
grunt, and then I guessed that he didn't 
want his come all over his new car. so he 
slowed her down and just played a liHie 
more and then drove her back home. In the 
next two days we fuc-:-.:: v == : \. -:-"-. 
limes with her relating the story SB ce-cent 
of the time, which drove us both over the 
brn-; of ocsiasy. Wi"i:>~ '.- --. " "-"■ 
we discussed the idea of her giving him the 
fuck of his life. I have a feeling he'll go along 
with the idea.— J.R. Wew Orteans. La. 


It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and my girl 
friend and I decided tc lat eahatfi ace i - 
mon practice. But, on this particular after- 
noon. I was feeling esr-: _ tT" " -_' :i 
decided to change our :eg. - ~to a 

candlelight fantasy. I sew a : p : a 5 ar d 
filled up the huge slope-Pack, claw-footed 
tub. added scented oils and Duoc'e bath, 
and set up a "able w.r = ; _.:=": '. 
and wine. My girl friend entered the bath- 
room and was obvious arret? :-~ 
romantic setting. Dropping ~~ m -_:--■::: e 
she slipped into the tut: he ~- - .-■ ning 
like gold in the soft candlelight 

We played a game :':.-." - 
while we enjoyed a few tokes ant: : 
wine. When I won, she tossed a sponge full 
of water on me. I playfully slashed her 
back, and ;he 'lexllhir-g --- ■ ?; i:~-r 
ing her lovsng'.y from t n e=: ' :-:.-." 

ger'Jy. bypassing \~-v ; : ^ -"--= ■>.-.; "~c 
her to a point of ecstasy! Then, as I ran my 
hand softly up the inside : -v " - she 
quivered and arched her pelvis up out of 
the ■■.■va~er. I -espondec " . - ..::"" 
water from the sponge between her legs 

and then running the no c ....■" 'si 

between her legs and then around her 
hardened clitoris. 

I was about to spread her lips when sud- 
denly she swung both -;;_ : -- "-. ; '.^ :■ 
the tub. I started nibbling at "-=' .:-:■: and 
worked my way up the inside of her teg, 
back to her pussy. By - h -.s I me she had 
worked her way right out of the water and 
hao her nands on one ri::T ■;---- _ -: ;-.- : -- 
ing her pelvis across the other s^oe, I thrust 
my throbb'ng cock into her soft, wet pussy. 
using long, drawn-out strokes until I was at 
the peak of an orgasm. Suae-" . ;~e 
jumped off the tub onto me. wrapping her 
luscious legs around my waist and knock- 
ing me backward onto the toilet seat. I 
never realized how strong I was. I stood up 
and was actually holding her in my arms. 
pumping her up and down on my swollen 
cock until we both collapsed on the floor in 
a terrific orgasm. Wow! After a brief rest we 
moved into a sixty-nine and expenmented 

nd the toilet, 


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The great pretender 

Lately, my boyfriend Steve, has been 
b- ngirg home your magazine. He started 
me reading the "Forum" section, and the 
more I read, the more turned on I got. This 
finaily led us to trying some different meth- 
ods of making love that I never thought I'd 
experience. I was- reading away one night 
when I had an idea. I jumped out of bed, left 
the room, and came back in wearing a 
short halter dress, iow-riding panties, and 
high heels, f told him that we were going to 
pretend, and that he was to play along. 

Firs:. I asked him how much he had paid 
forme and my time. He answered me, and 
we fell right into our playing roles. He told 
me he was the type of customer who en- 
joyed sor-e 5' ghtly kinky i.nings. I was de- 
lighted that he had taken our play so seri- 
ously l was so turned on by it that I agreed 
to my customer's whims. Steve lifted my 
dress up and forcefully tore my panties off; I 
assured him I felt no pain and asked him to 
continue. My time was his. He kissed my 
thighs gen 1 y anc then worked his way to- 
ward rT -v & up ng s *. ' played evasive i 
order to entice him more. 

Steve grabbed me and threw me on the 
bed and called me his little whore. He said 
all he wanted was my hot pussy to put his 
tongue inro. He lied my hands to the bed- 
post ana my feet to the headboard. He 

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ceeded to lick and tantalize my clit. 
beautiful cock had grown to an enormous 
eight inches, and it was aching. He said 
he'd paid enough money for me thai I'd 
have to suck him before he felt satisfied. So 
he lifted his hips up into the air and placed 
his cock in my mouth. I sucked and licked 
his anxious head and tasted a few drops of 
love on my tongue. I knew my little fantasy 
was working, when he told me he couldn't 
stand it any more and sat back to- slip his 
love muscle into my hot, dripping pussy. He 
threatened me, saying that I had better 
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wouldn't let him fuck me at all. It was such a 
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All the while I was thrashing to get loose. 
Soon 1 felt him ready to let loose. I began to 
. rotate my hips, and it finally built up and 
brought. us both to a roaring climax. I knew 
it had been good when 1 felt him collapse 
on top of me. We both came so violently 
that neither- of us could breathe. So, satis- 
fied and happy, we fell asleep in each 
other's arms but not until he told me that he 
felt very good and that I could play his 

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whore any old time. 

I wouldn't trade my Steve in for anything, 
but now there's an extra to add to our sex 
lives. I think a lot of it came from Penthouse. 
Thanks to you and to my stud! — V.P., 
Omaha, Nebr. 

Muscle madness 

Wrestling has always been a turn-on for me. 
Back when I was ten, a friend and I would 
strip down to our briefs and proceed to 
grunt and groan. It wasn't too many bouts 
before I began getting erections from just 
thinking about applying a hold or being 
punished. Often I would apply a hold so 
that my cock was up against bare skin. I'd 
masturbate in private aftera bout, because 
I didn't have guts enough to do something 
hot with my buddy. Boy! Was I naive, be- 
cause, as I recall, my friend would bump 
me from time to time during a match, but 
since I didn't react, neither did he. 

A few years later I moved away from my 
wrestling buddy. I'd still wrestle other guys 
from time to time, however— sometimes 
even in the dark, where I'd allow myself to 
get trapped in a leg scissors. I'd nudge the 
guy's ass or balls with my nose, and the 
musky scent would drive me wild. Since he 
couldn't see what! was doing, I'd reach my 
cock and masturbate inside my briets. 
They were sweat stained; so he was no 
wiser about the sperm stains. 

Still, I had no luck in fulfilling what was 
becoming sexual wrestling matches in my. 
fantasies until one weekend when a friend 
stayed overnight with me. I'd always been 
attracted to Gordon, because he had a 
super body. I had fantasized about wres- 
tling him many times, but when I saw him 
shaving in the nude I couldn't resist taking 
him down. 1 knew Gordon was an athlete, 
but 1 never knew he could wrestle. With his 
strong hands and arms he broke my full 
nelson. In doing so, he made me fall to my 
knees. Gordon quickly dropped to the floor, 
wrapping his legs around my stomach in a 
brutalizing frontal body scissors. 

He did a wrestler's bridge with his neck, 
which caused his abdominal muscles to 
ripple. God, was his body beautiful! The 
sweat dripping oft his body and the mus- 
cles in his thighs bulging as he applied 
pressure was driving me crazy with ex- 
citement. I could see that his cock was 
getting hard. It immediately went com- 
pletely erect. He quickly looked at me, and 
before we both could think, my cock was 
between his firm buns and my hands were 
stroking him. We both came at the same 
time in one glorious muscular spasm, For 
the next several hours we wrestled and 
made love. We forgot which was which, but 
it brought new meaning to the saying 
"Wrestlers know the best holds." 

I'm now much older, married, and have 
three kids. Sometimes when I'm having a 
little trouble getting it on with the old lady, 1 
just remember Gordon's glorious thighs 
and rippling abdominal muscles, and I go 
wild. What my wife doesn't know won't hurt 
her. She thinks I've discovered the fountain 
of youth. — Name and address withheld 



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school, but for some reason 1 had never 
made it with anyone, although I had always 
been strongly attracted to both exception- 
ally beautiful girls and handsome, stud- 
type guys. Well, one day that all changed. 

1 was in the music department of a store. 
checking out the albums, when I felt as if 
someone were slaring al me. I looked up, 
and about fifteen feet away was this great- 
looking guy. He was about twenty-four 
years old and very well dressed. The next 
thing I knew, he was standing right next to 
me. I took a quick, nervous glance at hir 
and could tell that he was a real stud. His 
blond hair was perfectly styled, and his 
saiin shirt was unbuttoned halfway down, 
exposing his downy-haired chest. He 
pulled an album from the rack and asked 
me if I had heard it before. 1 said I hadn't. He 
then asked me if I would like to listen to it 
with him and his girl friend. As I stumbled 
for words, I noticed that he was staring at 
my crotch, and he himself had a huge 
bulge in his very tight pants. Without even 
thinking, I. said, "Sure, why not?" He paid for 
the album and said, "Great. Let's go." 

On the way to his apartment he 
plained that his name was Dave and thai 
his girl friend's favorite fantasy was to 
watch him make it with another guy. He said 
it was something that he always fantasized 
about, too, and he asked if I was game. 
Although I was very nervous, 1 agreed and 
told him that it was also my fantasy. 

A! his place, his girl, Trisha, greeted us in 
a T-shir I and a pair of shorts so light that her 
crack was plainly visible. She was very 
pretty, with blonde hair and a greal body, 
getween looking at her gorgeous body and 
Dave's bulging crotch, I was really getting 
horny and my crotch was also bulging and 

We sat down and talked while we looked 
at some terrific pictures. Then Trish put one 
hand on my crotch and one on Dave's and 
said, "I think you're a little cramped. Why 
don't you go in the bedroom and relax and 
get to know each oiher better?" 

We did, and Trish sat down ina lounge 
chair with a vibrator in hand. I was very 
nervous and. didn't really know what to do. 
but Dave very calmly said. "Let's fuck." 

That was it! We both stripped and 
jumped on the bed. Dave had a terrific 
body and an eight-inch cock, which was 
hard and throbbing. He lay down on his 
back and told me to straddle his stomach 
and suck him while he licked and sucked 
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seconds all over his chest, and he came 
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licked and tongued each other from head 
to toe and were both hard within seconds. 

This time he had me sit on his chest while 
he sucked me off and ran his fingers up my . 
ass. I came as I never had before, grinding 
my pulsating cock in his mouth. I then 
rolled off, exhausted. He began massag- 
ing and licking my aching prick, and in no 

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time I was hard and ready. [ rolled over on 
him and we tongued each other while we 
ground our cocks against each other. We 
both" exploded and then licked each other 
clean, and then we heard Trish moan as 
she furiously jerked her vibrator in and out 
ot her beautiful, dripping cunt. She nearly 
passed out, but when she quit coming, she 
jumped into bed with us. We'd been jerking 
each other off while we watched her; so she 
finished us both off, slurping down every 
drop of come. 

After a rest, we decided to try something 
different. Trish got on all fours, and I shoved 
my prick into her tight little ass. Dave then 
put his cock up my ass. It took a little time 
and patience to get our rhythm right, but 
when we did. it was out of this world. We all 
came in a mind-shattering explosion and 
then dropped in exhaustion. 

I'm looking forward to more experiences 
with Trish and Dave, but none could ever 
top the first. — Name and address withheld 

Healthy instincts 

It is quite reassuring as well as a great 
turn-on to read more and more letters from 
other women readers of Penthouse. Be- 
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For the last eight years your pictorials, 
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pink, bouncing bullocks that I'd have to 

masturbate in the bathroom before going to 
my next class. 

The summer after graduation 1 shared 
my Penthouse collection and my secret 
desires with my best friend. We spent sev- 
eral evenings getting high and turned on as 
we savored the magazines together, and 
for the rest of the summer we experimented 
with different ways of satisfying each other. 
From the first time I touched her soft 
breasts, felt her nipples hardening be- 
tween my fingers, tasted the bitter-sweet 
juices of her vagina, and fell the delightful 
sensations of being probed by her hands 
and tongue, my appetite for all the varieties 
of sex was tantalized beyond all conven- 
tional limits. 

Since those earlier years I have often 
used your magazine as a taking-off point 
for my own experiments. When 1 see or read 
about other people acting out delicious 
fantasies, it becomes so much easier for 
me to pursue their fulfillment. Your "Bawdy 
Bathers" pictorial in 1974 inspired me to 
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night swim. As I walked to the edge of the 
pool to join them, I slowly peeled off my 
swimsuit before slithering into the water. 
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finally and undeniably real. 

As recently as last winter I had still not 
been involved in a menage & trois with a 
man and another woman. It was a long- 
standing fantasy of mine, fueled and fired 
by the descriptions I'd read and the layouts 
I'd relished in your magazine, 'but the right 
combination just hadn't come along. Then I 
met a man with whom sex was so good that 
I could talk to him about anything, and he 
would do anything to please me. I knew that 
l could, without fear, share him with my 
favorite girl friend-love rand that as a three- 
some we would all take each other to new 
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One Saturday morning I woke up decid- 
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Greg was still asleep, his soft, thick penis 
resting invitingly across his lower stomach. 
I gently held his balls in one hand and ever 
so tenderly slipped his flaccid dick into my 
mouth. He moaned in his sleep as his cock 
slowly hardened in response to the licking 
and sucking I was administering. By the 
time Greg opened his eyes, he had a full 
throbbing erection, glistening with saliva 
and come, sliding in and out of my wet 
mouth and throat. 

I slipped away to the living room for a 
moment and brought back two issues of 
Penthouse from last year. They featured two 
of my favorite mixed-threesome pictorials. 


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"Look at these while I ride you," ] grinned, 
"and think about how exciting it would be to 
have another woman with us." I straddled 
Greg's hips and positioned myself above 
his stiff penis, guiding it to my nether iips 
and slowly impaled myself down' its thick, 
rigid length. "Ooh ... we could be doing 
that," I breathed, pointing to one of the 
pages. Greg groaned as I wriggled my 
hips, churning my cunt around his big 
prick, "What, uh, mmmh persuasion!" "Two 
more breasts to feel and suck . . . another 
. . . aahh, wet cunt to. unh, lick and . . . 
plunge into like mine," I sighed. He turned 
the pages clumsily as I bounced up and 
down on his cock. I was nearing a climax 
but had to be sure I had him with me. "Two 
women," I whispered, "their lips and 
tongues and fingers . . . oh, God ... all 
over you. Ooh, your -cock, uh, your ass. 
aaahh!" Greg was there, too. "Oh, Christ. 
yes," he panted, thrusting upward, crash- 
ing into me with sudden fury, 'Aah! Yes, two 
. . . anything, shit, sooo . . .oh. . .good. 
mmmh ..." I let myself go, lost in the or- 
gasm, swirling on his spurting prick, his 
warm semen flowing into me, my desires 
and fantasies becoming his. 

We rested in each other's arms for a few 
minutes, savoring the afterglow in our warm 
bodies, and then 1 got up and called my 
friend and lover (whom I'll call) Toni. I asked 
her if she was up for a new sexuai adven- 
ture, and she said she'd be right over. By 
the time the doorbell rang, Greg and I were 
incredibly high with anticipation. He 
wanted to answer the door with his gorged 
penis sticking out proudly in front of htm. I 
stood next to him literally dripping with ex- 

Toni is a woman of mixed race, a ripe 
twenty-one years of age. Her skin is a 
creamy milk-chocolate color, her hair a 
warm brown worn in a seminatural that 
flows down around her soft beautiful face. 
She has the type of phenomenal figure that 
inspires envy in other women and arouses 
animal lust in every man who sees her. 
She's of medium height with long slim legs, 
a high firm fanny, tiny waist, and large. 
round, fleshy breasfs that are so firm they 
never need support. Toni always dresses to 
show off her body: deliciously tight pants. 
skimpy tank tops, and T-shirts or flimsy re- 
vealing blouses, and occasional slinky 
dresses that beg to be ripped off. 

She stood before us in tight white shorls 
that highlighted the smooth coffee tone of 
her silky legs and creased sharply into her 
crotch. Her clinging T-shirt accentuated 
the size of her chest, the dark shadows of 
her nipples taunting us through the yellow 
cotton. She gaped at Greg's hard prick but 
coolly stepped forward, grasping his 
hard-on as if she were shaking hands and 
said, "This is a big surprise!" She turned to 
me, kissed me fully on the mouth with her 
soft lips and probing tongue and told me. 
"You know I'm always ready for something 
new, lover." Stroking Greg's dick with one 
hand, she slid the other over my breasts 
and down my belly, dipping herfingers into 
my steaming vagina. Then, licking her now 


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It's 1980, and President Carter refuses to take his 
low standing in the polls tying down In this outrageously tunny political satire by 
Alexander Cdckburn and James Ridgeway, Carter's men launch a misbegotten 
scheme to have the president stand lough against antinuclear radicals. Bert Lance. 
Ham Jordan, JorJy Powell. PatCaddelt, and all the other good old boys foilcw such' 
iraditionai behavior patterns that what is presented here as satire is likely happen- 
ing now behind closed doors in Washington. 

In Part I of this two-part series on America's farm crisis, we 
learned that more than 1,000 farms a week are going bankrupt. Last winter 
[ thousands of farmers traveled to Washington in an attempt to show the politicians 
why the independent farmer is necessary to American life David Harris was with 
them and recounts their repeated efforts to gain justice and their betrayal-by the 
government Harris's dramatic report of the sellout of the American farmer clarifies : 
why Carter is considered "the Benedict Arnold of agriculture." 

Marijuana is one of the biggest businesses around— as big. in fact, as' 
the entire American tobacco industry Americans spend about $12 biflion a. year on 
Colombian weed alone; Ed Rasen, in an'intensive six-month investigation, infiltrated 
the ranks of several megaton Colombian smugglers, learning firsthand how these 
operations are conducted and why so few smugglers are ever caught or prose- 
cuted. As one US, Customs official admits. "The ones we do catch should be 
arrested for stupidity, not for trafficking." 

Charles Herman, a young American free-lance 
writer who lived in Chile, disappeared two days after a military coup overthrew 
Salvador Allende's government When Ihe American ambassador did: nothing to 

help Horman's lather flew to Chile to; try to save him. Thomas Mauser's; account of 
this nightmarish journey, the father's discovery of his son's terrible death! and. the . 
likelihood Of American Stale Department complicity in !he murder are presented in 
this compelling excerpt from the upcoming book The Execution of Charles Horman:- 
An American Sacrifice, to be published by Harcburf Brace Jovanovich. 

. - ' ", . ." As yet.another election-day disaster approaches, political : 
analyst Jeff Greenfield confirms the awful truth that defeated voters suspected, 
politicians a'ways do exactly the opposite of what they promise. Elected politicians, 
Greenfield says, immediately run lor reelection by appeasing opponents and 
ignoring campaign pledges The way to beat the system. .once you. know Ihis, is 
simple' vole for the candidate who offers the opposite pi what you want. A cynical 
but persuasive argument idr voting in reverse, in our November 'Advise and Dis- : ; 
sent'O^— g-- .--"■--■' 'i 


wet fingers, she sighed, "Mmmm, it. tastes 
like you two have already had some morn- 
ing fun and games with each other. Let's 
get started." 

Toni lifted her shift over her breasts, and 
Greg gasped in awe, "My god! It's like a 
dream!" While he helped her with her top 
and swooped down on her perfect coffee- 
colored bosom, I unzipped her shorts and 
slid them down her long, tan legs. 1 couldn't 
help fondling her prominent ass and briefly 
sip at the succulent folds of flesh adorned 
by thick, tight curls of black hair. Since 
Toni's vagina is low slung and periecily 
situated for rear entry, I suggested that she 
and I' "sixty-nine" with her kneeling over 
me, allowing Greg to slip fn from any direc- 

In a flash I was on my back, Toni above 
me, our mouths glued to each others moist 
vaginal deltas. Her huge breasts pressed 
against my stomach, their hard, brown nip- 
ples burning into my flesh. With my fingers 1 
spread her delicate labia, revealing her 
pink clitoris and glistening inner tissues, 
which my hungry tongue lapped crazily. 
Toni's brown face was completely buried 
between my thighs, her lips pressed inside 
my vagina, her tongue darting deep into 
the crevice, driving me absolutely mad. 
Then Greg knelt in front of her offering her 
his penis. As she raised her head to oblige 
him, her hips lowered her cunt more firmly 
against my mouth and I continued to eat 
her out while she voraciously fellated 
Greg's slick erection. 

After a few more minutes of slurping and 
sucking, Greg moved around behind Toni, 
obviously ready to plunge his reddened 
prick into her more-than-ready cunt. He 
placed his hands on the tawny globes of 
her round ass and slid his cock right above 
my face toward her wet entrance. I reached 
up and guided his hot, stiff penis into Toni's 
quivering vagina, licking his shaft as it sank 
into the fleshy opening. "Ohhh! That's it, 
honey," Toni moaned. "Mmmm, fuck me 
hard with that pretty dick!" Soon her sighs 
were muffled in the wetness of my cunt as 
she drove her strong, hot, probing tongue 

The first trio was only a stimulus to more 
experimentation that day and many others. 
We tried numerous positions and varia- 
tions, including gentle bondage, playful 
spanking and tickling, and the use of oils, 
honey, whipped cream, dildos, and vibra-. 
tors. We always end up fucking each other 
at such a furious pace that, like the tigers in 
"Little Black Sambo," we seem to lose our 
original identities and melt into one flowing. 
butlery mass. We've talked about bringing 
other friends into our expanding sexual 
universe and continue to look XoPenthouse 
for innovations and new frontiers. — LS., 
Los Angeles, Calif. Ch — g 

For mere p'ovoca!r,>;, simulating, 3nd con- 
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Magazine now on sale at your newssiand. 
or, for this month's copy, send S1.25 to 
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gave their best performance. 

Like the feeling you get with every 
sip of Smooth as Silk Kessler. 

Consistent. Smooth. Sip after sip. 
Time after time. Money just can't buy 
^ a smoother whiskey. 


l<««* KJESSLER. 


is lowest. 


See how Carlton stacks 
down in tar. Look at the latest 
U.S. Government figures for 



Winston Lights 






Salem Lights 



Kent Golden Lights 









Carlton Soft Pack 1 

Carlton Menthol less than 1 
Carlton Box less than s 1 

Otall brands, lowest... Carlton Box: 1 mg.tar, 
0,1 mg. nicotine av. per cigarette by FTC method. 


Filter & Menthol 

The tighter 

Warning: The Surgeon' General Has Determined 
That Cigarette Smoking Is Dangerous to Your Health. 

Soft Pack and Menthol: 1 mg. "tat", 0.1 mg. nicotine 
av. per cigarette, FTC Report Aug. 77. Bo*:. 1 mg. "tar", 0.1 mg. nicotine; 
100 mm. Soft Pack and Menthol: 5 mg. "tar", 0.5 mg. nicotine 
av. per cigarette by FTC method.